


How to become a male Batgirl

by Blackjay27



Series: How to be a male Batgirl [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Jason Todd didn't die, Jason Todd is Robin, Or being called batgirl, Pre-New 52, Tim Drake is Batgirl, Without crossdressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 49,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6416839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackjay27/pseuds/Blackjay27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many ways to help Batman and Robin, but no matter which universe he's in, Tim's method will always end with him in a costume on Gotham's rooftops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How to help your superhero.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, my first bit of batman fanfiction! Or fanfiction in general, I suppose. This is my take on the Jason-didn’t-die-but-they-still-ended-up-with-Tim AU, though Tim doesn’t get Robin this time around. Canon-typical violence, at least in later chapters, with some OOC ‘cause it’s an AU and they’re therefore slightly different people. Very definitely NOT set in the New 52. I am to update fortnightly, but I'm a uni student with other commitments, so there may be a few mini-hiatuses.

 

The bus drivers on the eight o’clock Bristol Heights-Gotham city centre run had long since stopped commenting on the tiny 12-year-old with the fancy camera who would purchase a return ticket from them every night for months, disappear for a few weeks, then get right back to it. This suited Tim just fine.

For all his efforts to conceal himself, it really wouldn’t take that much questioning to reveal that the only black-haired blue-eyed boy of his stature to live in that area was Timothy Drake, and then people would start to ask questions and his parents would be at home for longer than a few weeks every four or five months and he wouldn’t be able to take photos of Batman and Robin… Not that that was as exciting as it used to be.

When he’d started with Dick as Robin, staying hidden to take photographs had been almost like a game. Jason’s takeover a short while later had been a difficulty spike, the street Robin had learned early on in life that people staring at you was _not good_ , and had an almost metahuman ability to locate the person who was gazing at him, but Tim’s stealth abilities had improved as well, so it was still fun.

Now though… Tim could dance the Macarena on the Batsignal and so long as he wore a blue shirt the Dynamic Duo would have a derogatory thought about the GCPD’s hiring standards then continue to exchange glares and wait for Commissioner Gordon to leave so they could outright argue, like his parents did any time they spent more than two weeks in Gotham. Like they were doing now.

It was a quiet argument, all things considered, both participants aware that being caught screaming at each other atop Gotham National Bank would not do much for their carefully-constructed mythos. Unfortunately, the bank was the tallest building for several blocks, so in order to see them Tim had sacrificed all ability to hear their words.

From his best guess, it was either started over Jason’s recklessness with the muggers he’d taken down earlier, or Batman abandoning Jason in the middle of patrol last night for a minor Justice League incident that turned out to be a drunken Lexcorp employee in charge of an exo-suit that Superman could have taken out with his pinky. Probably Batman had made a comment on the former, Jason had fired back with the latter and things had escalated. It was a depressingly familiar cycle.

Since the dynamic duo had returned from Ethiopia around  six months ago, there had been seven of these fights that Tim knew of, and probably countless more that they’d had the sense to conduct behind closed doors, from the number of times they started their patrols not speaking to one another or even operating separately.

Tim hadn’t taken a single good picture of either of them in that time. He was starting to wonder why he bothered bringing his camera.

The argument ended as they always did, with Jason trying an abortive strike on Batman then grappling off before things became actually violent.

Neither participant was in any fit state of mind for crime-fighting, as proven by the fact that Jason didn’t even glance at Tim’s hiding spot, despite swinging right past it. Tim had no doubt that a month ago he’d be desperately trying to explain himself right now, not slowly descending a fire escape to go home with a blank roll of film and a heavy heart.

Somebody was going to have to find a way to help Gotham’s heroes, or they’d end up dead at worst, separated at best. And screaming, plate-throwing divorce levels of separated at that, a permanent ceasing of relations, not like how Batman and Dick were constantly dancing around the point of reconciliation.

It was as he hit the alley floor that the thought popped into his head unbidden. _“Why can’t the person who helps them be me?”_

* * *

 It took until ten thirty the following morning for Tim to admit that maybe he needed more of a plan than some vague idea of ‘help’. He’d decided to hack the GCPD’s records to see if he could predict any negative effects of Batman losing a Robin, so as to have a just-in-case plan if events escalated before Tim could step in, and it did not look good.

Both before Dick Grayson had been taken in by Bruce Wayne and in the brief period between Dick being fired and Jason being hired the number of criminals being brought in by the Batman with serious injuries had been approximately double the amount than with a Robin by his side. More disturbing was the fact that their unofficial ‘Bat-watch’ recorded a similar trend with the number of times Batman had left holding himself as if he were wounded. Batman clearly _needed_ to have a Robin by his side in order to not commit suicide by vigilantism.

The first step in providing the help to avoid that would be finding the root cause of the change in their relationship. As far as Tim could see, neither Bruce nor Batman were treating Jason any different, which meant that the problem lay with how Jason reacted to that treatment, which had always been fine before, right? Tim paused.

 Actually, it _hadn’t_ always been fine before. There had been several occasions, especially early on, where Jason’s Robin had stormed out on Batman, only returning after talking with Batgirl and patrolling with her for a bit. Wait, that was it. _Batgirl._ Tim had been an idiot and focused too much on the revelation that Batman needed Jason to be Robin to question what Jason needed to be an effective Robin. In this case, a Batgirl.

Tim knew that Barbara Gordon was doing an excellent job setting herself up as Oracle, information broker to the Bats, but clearly her new role wasn’t cutting it in the helping-Robin-cope-with-Batman department. Now that Tim thought about it, the problems between Jason and Bruce had started escalating back following Barbara’s crippling. The best explanation Tim could make for this was that Jason was unwilling to remind her of her loss by venting about Batman to someone who would understand.

In any case, what Tim had to do was clear. He had to persuade Barbara Gordon to train somebody else to be a new Batgirl, and thus indirectly save Batman and Robin. That didn’t sound too hard.


	2. How to persuade Oracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said fortnightly updates, but so far this fic has come to me quite easily, so I'll be trying weekly for now.

As a lifetime resident of Gotham and former superhero, Barbara Gordon took great pride in being used to unusual and surprising events (Like the time Calendar Man, the Joker and Scarecrow had all decided to celebrate Shark Week at Gotham Aquarium simultaneously). Due to this, it said something that the only reason the child sat on the other side of her kitchen table hadn’t taken the biscuit for ‘most unusual monologue to come from the mouth of an under-16’ was because Dick had wondered off with it after the incident with Roy Harper, the three koalas, and the metric ton of bananas.

“I’m sorry” she said, cutting the boy -Tim Drake- off mid-sentence, “but can you stop babbling and let me get this straight?”

Tim nodded cautiously.

“You worked out Batman and Robin’s identities at age nine, and from them the identities of all subsequent Gotham-based heroes.” There was an awkward silence, then Tim obviously realised that he was being asked a question.

“Yes’m” He nodded. Huh, slightly archaic manners in this one.

“You then proceeded to stalk them across the city to photograph them, no matter how _dangerous_ that would be to such a small child.” Another nod, a far quieter “Yes’m”.

“Due to this reckless habit, you noticed that around my quitting as Batgirl” A quick look of surprise flashed across Tim’s face “and subsequent crippling that the relationship between Batman and Robin seriously degraded.”  The nod was slower this time, and not accompanied by a verbal answer. Given his surprise that she’d quit _before_ she would’ve been forced to- which not many people knew- he was probably seeing if his hypothesis could be supported by this new data.

“After watching for a while and working out that they weren’t magically going to go back to their old teamwork, you decided ‘Robin needs a Batgirl’ and came to force me to train my successor. That sound about right?”

Tim frowned “Not quite, Miss Gordon ma’am. Robin doesn’t need a Batgirl like Batman needs a Robin. _Jason_ , on the other hand, in order to _be_ Robin, needs somebody he feels safe to vent to about all the ways Batman and Bruce annoy him, someone who will understand and he won’t feel guilty about reminding of things they can no longer have.” Something about Tim’s eyes as he declared his hypothesis was triggering an old memory of Barbara’s. _Batman needs a Robin, huh…_

“Ok kid, first off, it’s Barbara, or Babs, not ‘Miss Gordon ma’am’. I was a librarian, not a schoolteacher nor a judge.” A small smile appeared on Tim’s face, contrasting the confused furrow of his brow. “Second off, all those criteria are met by Nightwing, why bother training someone from scratch when I could just call him in?” The smile vanished, while the furrow worsened.

“Because… Because they’ve hardly been as quiet with this as they should. I know, you know, your father knows. I’m pretty sure at least the Riddler and Catwoman know from their Rogues, and Alfred at least knows they’re fighting, even if I’m not sure he knows about Batman and Robin.” Barbara smiled

“Oh, he knows. Rule 1 of Wayne Manor: Alfred knows all. I don’t see what that has to do with Dick, though.” Tim gave her a near-glare look, as if she were pretending to be more stupid than she was, which was very perceptive of him.

“Because I find it hard to believe that at no point during this argument somebody has tried getting him to mediate or pick a side.”

Barbara let herself scowl “You’d be right. And when I tried the ass _literally_ ran away to join the circus. Well, re-join.” Tim’s befuddled frown was back at full force.

“But… Why?”

After a moment, Barbara decided that this was Tim trying to reconcile his (mostly accurate) heroic image of Dick Grayson with a man who would run away from his family’s issues, and not an attempt to steal control of the conversation. “Dick talks a lot about his love for his family, and when everything is going well then he’s the best son, boyfriend and brother you could name, even if he only has limited experience of the last one. But when the going gets tough, he gets flaky, makes bad decisions, and ends up making things worse. Or at least, that’s what he thinks, and based on the romantic advice he gave our friends in school and the end of our relationship, as well as the fights with Bruce when he ran off to become Nightwing, the evidence tends to bear with that theory.” Tim nodded slowly.

“He thinks if he gets involved everything will blow up in his face. But not getting involved won’t make things any better.” Oh, _that_ was the memory Tim’s _‘Batman needs a Robin’_ statement had been triggering earlier.

Dick and her sitting at the top of an apartment block discussing why they became vigilantes, him for revenge at first, then because his aid made Bruce better, her because sitting around the house waiting for her father to come home changed nothing. Tim had the same fire in his eyes as Dick had had talking about helping Bruce save people.

“Alright then kid, enough beating around the bush. Your hypothesis that another Batgirl will reconcile Jason and Bruce? Overly simplistic and missing a number of factors that it’s not my place to tell you about.” Tim actually glared that time, and opened his mouth to rebuke her. “ _That being said,_ I see no way it can actually hurt Batman/Robin relations, and just by looking at you I can tell that if I send you away you’ll just keep trying to help until you inevitably end up in one costume or another. Don’t think I missed that you said Batman needs _a_ Robin, not _Jason_ as Robin.” He settled down and flushed slightly. “Congratulations, you’re hired.” The implications of what she was saying must have hit like a sack of bricks, because Tim sat there with his mouth open for a good five seconds before reacting.

“ _You_ want _me_ to be _Batgirl!?”_ Internally, Barbara smiled. Even shoving his chair back and leaping to his feet, the kid was still barely a head taller than her in her wheelchair. She had no doubt he’d be fighting to avoid that name before long.

“Bat _boy_ , unless you want to cross-dress. Or you could come up with your own name. I’d recommend not leaving it up to the general public. The masses have no imagination.” Case in point, Batgirl. She’d been aiming for Batwoman, but the former had stuck.

“No, no cross-dressing please.” Bruce would challenge that statement, given how feminine Tim looked compared to Jason “But…”

“You’re worried that you won’t be good enough, that you’ll get hurt like I did.” Tim nodded. “Okay. I get that. But there are two things you have to understand. Firstly, this” she gestured to her chair “had nothing to do with Batgirl, and everything to do with my Dad. I’ve fought the Joker often enough to know that if he knew he’d just brought down Batgirl he would have gloated. _He didn’t._ He would have shot me whether I had bat-training or not. It was random, it was cruel, and it was _unavoidable._ Secondly, you’ve been running across Gotham’s rooftops since you were nine, _whilst avoiding Batman_. The only areas in which you’re weaker than I was when I started, or Dick and Jason when they did, are combat skills and physical strength. Well, and acrobatics if we’re comparing you to Dick, but that’s beside the point.”

Tim sank back into his chair, a wan smile on his face. “You really think I can do it.”

“There are alternatives, I’m not going to force you.” Because forcing somebody into this lifestyle would be tantamount to murder. “But yes, I really think you can do it.”

The smile on Tim’s face became a lot more real. “When do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit that Dick running off to the circus while his family are tearing each other apart seems OOC, but I based it on the fact that in canon, a lot of Dick's more notable bad decisions have come at times of family crisis (Taking Robin from Tim without asking, abandoning Bruce after Jason's death, etc.). Also, without Dick returning at this point Haly's would have closed down, and that felt like blasphemy. Someday I'll write an author's note without feeling the need to defend my writing decisions, but it is not today, and chapter 3 isn't looking any more likely.


	3. How to surprise your childhood idol

The problem with being paraplegic and training someone in martial arts, Barbara reflected, is that it was impossible to demonstrate new moves personally. Luckily Tim was a quick study, able to deduce the basic pattern of the techniques from something as basic as Babs describing the move to him, from which he could follow her corrections until it passed muster. This did nothing to mitigate the fact that he’d only fought against an imaginary person who seemed to be around his height, and Barbara, who was a head shorter thanks to her wheelchair. All in all, not the most representative sample of the sorts of opponents Batboy (they really needed to work on the name issue) would be facing on the streets of Gotham.

“You’re overextending on that first kick, that’s why you’re off balance throughout the whole kata” on the few occasions he had gotten past said first kick. Tim nodded.

“So, like this?” No, not like that, he was- “I overcompensated that time, didn’t I?”-overcompensating. Well, at least he noticed. There were superheroes who’d been in the game for years who still made mistakes like that. Not naming any bearded archers, of course.

“Yup, try again kid. That’s more like it. Repeat the kata ten more times, then start your cooldown so we can move on to practicing with batarangs.” Tim nodded and got into his stance as Barbara turned back to her computer, making sure to keep him in her peripheral vision in case he messed up.

The differences in her capabilities compared to those of the majority of the population had made Barbara make a difficult decision. She’d have to call in another trainer for Tim in order to ensure he was as safe as possible on the streets, as well as giving him a wider arsenal of moves to draw from. The only problem was who to choose.

If Jason found out about Tim while he was still in training he’d probably go off on the wrong tack and decide Bruce told Barbara to train Tim in order to replace him as Robin, and he was being brought in to teach his replacement the Robin skills he’d developed. The chances of that happening increased tenfold if she chose to bring in Bruce to help train Tim, and Bruce would try to shut Tim down as a vigilante before he could start anyway. Anyone from the wider hero community would be under some degree of bat-surveillance, so them regularly appearing in Gotham, or the heir to Drake industries appearing at their house, would lead to one or the other of those situations. That left Alfred (not really his cup of tea) or Dick, whose current location was-

“Hey Babs, Alfred told me to say- who’s the kid?” –apparently her windowsill. In full Nightwing regalia, no less.

“Tim Dra-uh- Batboy?” Tim responded. Dick raised an eyebrow, probably at Barbara taking on a pupil, though Tim seemed to interpret it as being at the name. “We’re uh, working on the identity though.” His eyes somehow managed to widen in shock from the anime-princess proportions they’d taken on when Dick entered the room. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Batboy, it’s just the masculine of Batgirl, and she was kickass and amazing and maybe better than Batman and I’m just babbling at this point aren’t I?”

An involuntary smile spread across Barbara’s face. “Just a little bit. Can I ask you to go to the kitchen, make a snack and do some homework or read a book? I need to have private words with Mr former Boy Wonder here.”

Tim nodded and walked out. “Come into the room properly, there’s very little you can give away that Tim doesn’t already know.”

“Soooo, Batboy? Does Bruce know? ‘Cause I think that’s the sort of thing he’d disapprove of, considering the whole ‘no revealing identities’ thing of his.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow. “You’re assuming Tim didn’t already know them.” Oh, she was going to have to screenshot the security cameras to get proof that Dick Grayson, Batman’s first protégé, could pull that surprised an expression. “You’re also changing the subject. You. My phone call. The circus. Explain.” Dick’s face went so sheepish any collie worth its breed would have tried to herd him. “Well?”

“I, er, didn’t think I could stay neutral in their fight, and if I sided with Jason I didn’t think I could reconcile with Bruce and if I sided with Bruce Jason would think I wanted to take Robin back from him and Haly’s was in trouble and picking Haly’s didn’t have any negative effect on either side so I picked it.” It took a few seconds and liberal use of her eidetic memory for Barbara to catch up to the stream of verbal diarrhoea, and when she did she wasn’t impressed. “I’d like to point out before you continue with your murder-face that me and Alfred have already had a calm discussion about said decision. He actually took vacation time to come to Haly’s and drag me home.” Damn, nothing she said or did would beat one of Alfred’s Calm Discussions™, especially with added Vacation Time Guilting®. Oh well, like that was going to stop her.

“And do you think your neutrality is worth the potential consequences of their continuing argument? It’s getting worse, you know. Both of them are getting more violent and sloppy without a partner to balance them. Tim’s theory, I’ll explain later. You call yourself Jason’s big brother? Maybe you should ask yourself why when he was mad at Bruce, something you had ample experience with, his first choice of person to go to was me at first, then the birth mother _he’d never met._ ”

Dick slowly sank to the floor where he sat cross-legged. “You have to understand, I thought this was a reaction to your… situation and his mother’s death. He was with Bruce and Alfred, they were more than enough for me when I was in the same place.”

An aggravated sigh tore itself from Barbara’s throat. “I don’t think you and Jason have ever been in the same place emotionally. He _hates_ authority, which means he refuses to confide in Bruce and Alfred because they both base their parenting on ‘My Word is Law’. What he really needs, in my unprofessional opinion, is a good elder sibling, someone with more experience but no more control over the household than him. And since he won’t go to me, because he’s a chivalrous little shit who doesn’t want to ‘hurt me by reminding me of my past’ or some such, that leaves you.”

Dick winced. “I’m not sure it’ll be that simple.”

The middle finger and a ‘suck it up’ were the response Barbara _wanted_ to give, but they would just encourage the man-child wonder’s angst session, so she settled for a shrug and “That’s where Tim’s theory about him needing a Batgirl comes in”.

Dick managed to go from hangdog to excited puppy so fast Barbara was sure he pulled a muscle in his face. “Oh, that’s right, Timmy! How’d you meet him? Was it all dead parents and cries of ‘Vengeance!’, or more low key like him stealing a wheel from your wheelchair?” Barbara typed a quick line of text on her computer.

“You’re changing the topic again.” She hit enter. “And no, he didn’t reprise either Bruce’s or Jason’s origin stories. I’ll let him tell you the full story, but as for the Cliff’s notes version: He saw Bruce and Jason fighting, decided Batgirl would fix everything and begged me to take on a new one, then got surprised when I chose him.”

“Ok, now I want to get to know this kid.”

“You’ll get the chance, you’re at the top of Bab’s list of potential other trainers for me.”

“I should have mentioned: he’s pretty stealthy.” And now she’d also have to get the video of Dick’s reaction to that stealth, because she was pretty sure his shriek reached alto pitch at a minimum. “Before you ask, he’s only been in the room since I finished summarising his story, I called him in with the text-to-speech feature I installed on his comm.”

Tim seemed slightly unnerved that Dick’s attempt to cover up how high he had jumped from shock was to turn it into leaping forward to give him a hug. “Um, Babs? I finished the, er, costume design you asked me to do.” The awkward hug turned into an arm over one shoulder as Dick stole the sheet of paper from Tim’s hands.

“Do you want my input? I design a pretty badass costume, if I say so myself.” Tim’s eyes widened in what Barbara prayed to _God_ was fear at the thought of letting Dick near his innocent costume.

“Er, no thanks. I’m not sure I could quite… pull off one of your designs.” Phew. There was only one kind of pulling off Barbara was willing to accept with Tim in a Dick-designed suit, at least for as long as he was her protégé, and it was the kind that ended in nakedness.

“Dick, I do need to approve that design, you know.” Dick handed over the paper face-down without comment, though his face looked vaguely approving, which was worrying from a fashion standpoint. Steeling herself, Barbara flipped it.

Huh. Not bad. Her initial thought was that it looked like Tim had given the Robin suit Batman’s colours. Then she started to note the differences. Full leg coverage for one, which was an innovation she was surprised Jason hadn’t gone for. The gloves were styled more like Batgirl’s and Batman’s, with the spines down the side. The cape and domino were dark grey, with a green lining on the cape a few shades darker than her Oracle logo, though still bright enough to be noticeable when necessary. Most of the rest of the outfit was a lighter shade of dark grey, save for the black boots and gloves, and the chest which had “A green bat?”

“I thought I’d leave yellow available in case a proper Batgirl candidate comes along. Likewise, I’m pretty sure I won’t be going by Batboy.”

Dick ruffled Tim’s hair. “So, what do we call the city’s smallest saviour?”

Tim squirmed away from Dick’s hand, a half-grin set upon his face. “How does Black Bat sound?”

Barbara gave him a small nod. “Not bad, not bad at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should point out that the problems described with Babs being Tim's sole trainer were developed by someone with no experience of martial arts (Me) and may be entirely inaccurate. They just seemed to be the sort of problems that might come up in that situation. Also, Dick's back in Gotham! Now he can become a plot macguffin to prevent Jason and Bruce from having that final argument until Tim's on the field. (Which will be next chapter, but several months later in-story, so the macguffin was needed.)


	4. How not to make your superhero debut

_“Can we go over the plan again please?”_ Tim sighed and rolled his eyes. Not that Oracle could see him at the top of this building over the comm. Probably.

“We’ve been over it three times already, O.” He refocused his binoculars on the sixth floor apartment on the other side of the street.

_“It’s your first time in the field and Nightwing’s unavailable. Humour me.”_

In lieu of Babs’s face, the target apartment was subjected to the full force of Tim’s deadpan expression. “I burst in through the window, incapacitate the target, leave the USB of evidence and call the police.”

_“And the target is?”_

“Albert Weiss, minor level gun smuggler who is getting close to the big leagues, but is sloppy enough that convicting him should be easy.”

_“Alright, go ahead.”_ Tim used the binoculars to peer through the windows. They knew Albert was home, and the flat only had three rooms, so the probability of him being in front of a window was- ew.

“Possibly _after_ he finishes masturbating.” There was an awkward silence.

_“That… might be a good idea. Though it_ would _guarantee you the element of surprise”_

Tim shifted his gaze away from the building. “No. Just no.” The sound of breaking glass caught his attention. “Seriously?”

_“What?”_

“Apparently Robin doesn’t share my qualms, and entered by the front door.”

_“…Ooookaay, that kinda derails my plan.”_ Tim’s head snapped up.

“We have a plan? Or was it just the ‘smash through the window’ plan.”

_“I was going to have you take down Weiss and do a few patrols in order to build up Brownie points with Batman to counteract the whole ‘child vigilante operating in Gotham without his permission’ thing.”_

“Should I just do the patrol then?” Dusting off his knees, Tim got to his feet.

_“Go ahead, but be careful.”_ A scream came from a neighbouring alley, before suddenly cutting off.

“Hold that thought.” Tim leapt from the side of the building onto the fire escape, looking down to orient himself relative to the source of the sound-

-Only to see a girl in a purple hoodie lob a brick at the would-be mugger/rapist, knocking him out. “Attempted assault in the alley east of my location. Civilian dealt with it. Should I step in?”

_“Not today. Robin’s nearly as close as you are, he’ll be there any minute, and we’re trying to keep you below bat-radar for the minute. I’d suggest leaving on foot, grappling might be faster but it’s also more attention-grabbing.”_

“Got it.”

* * *

 

As evenings went, this was not one of the worst in Stephanie Brown’s life. She’d gotten to chuck a brick at a scumbag, a heartfelt thanks from the woman who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a high-five from Robin, who really wasn’t as bad as her father claimed (though her father’s opinion was certainly not a good benchmark from which to measure someone). Granted she’d also had to sit through a lecture from the policewoman who told her that what she did was technically assault, and she was lucky that her details would be conveniently ‘lost in the system’ should the creep try to press charges. But all in all not a bad night.

Now if there were only some way to chuck a brick at her father without earning his wrath…

* * *

 

“It’s official” Tim moaned “I’m worse at fighting crime than a girl in a purple hoodie.” He’d been out here for three hours, and the mugging/rape (he’d have to find out which it had been) was the only crime he’d managed to come across. “I thought Gotham was crime central.”

_“Well, there’s a gang war going on near the docks, that’s why Batman and Nightwing are occupied and Robin was going solo the other end of the city.”_

Tim flopped to the floor of the roof of one of the buildings overlooking Gotham Museum. “What does that have to do with no crime on the streets?”

_“The normal criminals are trying to avoid getting caught up in it if it spreads without warning.”_

Barbara’s explanation went ignored as Tim propped himself up on his elbows, trying to work out what he was seeing- ah. “Are the curators of Gotham Museum known for wearing catsuits and entering via the skylight?”

_“Not especially.”_

“Then I think we have a break-in.” He pulled out his grapple and shot to the other roof.

_“Black Bat, do not engage, I repeat, do not engage. Catwoman won’t kill you, but she’s out of your league. Try your best to track her to her safehouse so B or N can retrieve what she takes later.”_

“Got it” though Tim had an alternate plan. If it didn’t work then he’d follow Oracle’s, but he had a strong suspicion it would. He pulled the items he needed from his utility belt and set to work.

* * *

 

Catwoman smirked as she tucked her prize away in a belt pouch. The Gotham Museum staff had bought in a gem called the ‘Tiger’s Eye’ and they _hadn’t_ expected her to steal it? Maybe they’d just thought Batman could retrieve it if it were stolen, but the gang war had been the purr-fect cover and oh god the cat puns were appearing in her thoughts now damn you Nightwing!

Dismissing all thoughts of appropriate punishments for pun-obsessed little birds, she easily scaled her way up to the skylight, slipping out onto the roof. Now all she had to do was close the skylight, reengaging the security system and leaving the police none the wiser as to how she got in. Or so she thought. The moment the skylight shut a thick cloud of gas billowed from below its rim, leaving her just enough time to swear before the world twisted and went black.

* * *

 

Once he had the Bat-cuffs (Really, who named these things? Probably Dick.) secured on Catwoman’ wrists, Tim had no more excuses to put off contacting Oracle.

“I, uh, captured Catwoman.” Hopefully she’d take this well.

_“That’s alright, it’s your first night out, I wasn’t expecting you to tra- wait_ what _?!”_ Maybe not.

“I captured Catwoman?”

_“Explain.”_ Uh-oh, she sounded _mad_.

“I figured that since she’d already disarmed the skylight security she wouldn’t expect a new trap to be added, so I stuck some knockout pellets to the rim of said skylight just in case she used it as an exit as well as entrance.” There were a few seconds of nervous silence. Then a sigh came across the comm.

_“Well, at least you didn’t_ directly _engage her in combat, so I can give you a technical pass on the obeying orders front. If I’m honest, none of us really lay traps for her as a matter of course, so that’s probably why it worked.”_

Tim relaxed. It seemed he’d escaped the worst of her wrath. _“Don’t think I won’t double your combat training tomorrow.”_ Or maybe not.

“So what do I do now? I’m not certain on the Bat-approved Catwoman protocol.”

_“Actually, neither am I. B generally deals with her alone, they get pretty, well, pornographic.”_

That was not an image Tim needed in his head. “I’m guessing we-

“What is going on here?” Who the- oh, um.

“H-hi Bruceman. Crap, I mean Bat Wayne. Shit I don’t mean that either, uh, um, maybe we should have this conversation somewhere more private?”

_“Smooth kid, real smooth.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad ways to reveal you know a superhero's identity: Call them by it in front of one of their villians. B isn't going to be happy with Tim... Neither are Babs or Selina, for that matter. Also- what IS the bat-approved method for dealing with catwoman? Other than being seduced by her, I knew that bit.


	5. How to receive a Batglare and Alfred's full surprise support.

There were many things Jason expected B to bring back from an emergency call-out to Gotham museum due to a Bat-gas-sensor (Seriously Dick?) alert. Joker bombs or a Scarecrow scythe, given that a gas set off the alarm, or a collection of scratches and lipstick kisses from Catwoman, cause the pair of them were pornographic at best, and B’s facial expression when Jason said so had been- but he was getting distracted.

The _point_ was, there wasn’t a lot he could bring back to surprise Jason. At point _numero uno_ on the list of things that would was a child dressed in a costume similar to Robin’s.

“Oh, hey Timmy!”

That Dick apparently knew.

B shoved the boy- Tim, because Jason may not know his full name, but he knows Dick, and Dick always goes for the most annoying nickname- into a chair and gives him the full Batglare #5, the ‘you will tell me what I want or I will dangle you off a bridge by your teeth’ glare.

“Explain.” And that’s the full Batman voice, which is way to fuckin’ much for kid who looks ten at most.

“The fuck B, he’s just a kid!”

“Bruce, are you sure you’re not laying it on a bit thick?”

“Master Bruce that is no way to treat a child!”

_“Lay off my operative, Bruce!”_

Huh, quadruple telling-off. And where the fuck did Alfred come from? And wait, Babs’s _operative_? None of this was making any sense.

“Language, Jason. He knows my secret identity, I need more details to ensure this families’ safety.” Ok, in Jason’s books that justifies the glare or the voice, just not both at once.

“Oh calm down, Bruce. He’s known for three years, I think he can keep it secret well enough.” What.

“You told a fuckin’ _seven-year-old_?! No wonder you were so pissy when I became Robin, I wasn’t your precious ‘Timmy’.” The kid’s mouth dropped open.

“He didn’t tell me! I worked it out all by myself! Dick didn’t find out about me until he climbed through Babs’s window to get shouted at by her! And I was nine, not _seven_.”

All eyes in the room turned to the screen Babs had hacked to show her Oracle logo. _“Before any of you ask, I only found out a few months ago. As best I can tell the only people Black Bat’s talked to about your identities have been those that already knew. I trust him.”_

B had opened his mouth to respond when- “If I may, Master Bruce. It is apparent that this discussion will devolve into one about your ability to trust, rather than about young Master… Timothy’s capabilities as a terror of the night. As such, may I suggest that said young master and Master Jason retire to the manor proper, rather than sitting watching… old traumas being dredged up.” B and Dick both nodded, and Jason found himself being dragged towards the stairs by his arm as Alfred called back to the kid. “Normally your costume wouldn't be allowed upstairs, but until I provide a change of clothes, needs must.”

* * *

 

Way to go Alfred! Clearly the only way to get around having to sit in awkward silence whilst B argues with his former sidekicks was to have them sit in awkward silence and oversized clothes in the living room!

The kid didn’t actually seem that bad, just tiny, and innocent. Unless he was hiding some dramatic inner fire, Gotham’d gobble him up. Then again, Babs wouldn’t defend someone to B she didn’t think could make it in this city.

“Um, we were never properly introduced. I’m Timothy Jackson Drake, but you can call me Tim. Or Black Bat, in the field.” Drake, Jason’d heard that surname somewhere… Crime Alley? No, more recently, drunk society lady at the last charity gala… Oh!

“Don’t you live next door? And I’ll stick with ‘Kid’ for now, thanks. Jason Todd, Robin 2.” A blush spread across the kid’s cheeks that made him look like a bleedin’ _Pikachu_ as he avoided Jason’s eyes.

“Um, well, uh… kinda?” Bullshit.

“How do you ‘kinda’ live somewhere?” That shut him up for a few seconds, then the kid mumbled something. Something about his parents and ‘not calling it home’.

“Ok then, how can you be certain that your parents won’t beat down the door asking if we’ve seen you ‘cause you vanished from your bed?” Another mumble. “You _think_ they’re in Lichtenstein? Isn’t that the sort of thing you should know?” The reply this time is distinct.

“They were there last week, but they’re only reliably somewhere just before they come home.”

“How long till they come home?”

“No idea, when they’re ready. Generally more than four months after they left, rarely more than a year.” Christ, and Jason’d thought Willis Todd was unreliable, Money apparently added a whole new dimension to how far and for how long sketchy parents could disappear (Not that he knew the Drakes were sketchy for certain, but this was clearly nothing new). Still, it wasn’t like Jason was a stranger to unreliable parents, he’d had three, rising to three-and-a-half depending on B’s mood.

“Has Babs told you about my birth mom?” The kid raised his head from the slump discussing his parents had drawn him into.

“No, why?”

“’Cause I’m sure it’s why B is so against trusting you.” And it might show you that you could’ve had worse parents. The kid nodded, giving Jason his full attention.

“Ok, so, cutting down the bit at the start, me and B had gone to Africa to search for my birth mom based on a list of names from my dad’s address book. We found her in Ethiopia at an aid camp. Problem was, so did the Joker.”

“He had some sort of leverage over her. We never found out what, but he persuaded her to swap the camps’ medicine supplies for Joker gas bombs. I found out, and persuaded B to reveal our identities to her in order to help out- naïve little shit that I was.” The kid looked ready to protest that last one, but Jason shushed him.

“Long story short, she lured us into a trap, trying to ‘reduce her debt’ or some such shit, then when that failed, attempted to reveal our identities to the fucking Joker, of all people. Apparently that would ‘take out all the fun’, and he beat her to death with a damn crowbar while we fought off his goons.” Based on the shade of his skin, there were probably better stories to tell the kid to cheer him up about his parents. Babs was going to kill him. And annoyingly enough, Dickie-bird was right, talking about it had helped. A bit. A very tiny bit.

“Babs was right, you have been through the wars. At least you haven’t responded by designing something like Disco-wing.” That was frankly a shitty attempt to lighten the mood, but at least it was an attempt. Jason needs to get to know this kid better, B’s go-ahead or no, if only to meet someone with the same taste in insulting nicknames as himself.

“Do you mind if I steal that and use it around the Titans? I won’t without your ok, but nobody else has any bad words to say about Dickie-bird for me to borrow.”

“Nobody else has spent a couple of months training with him, his fashion-sense, and his surprise hugs. It really weakens the hero-worship.” True, very true. “I had to accelerate designing my suit to avoid his input. I nearly took pictures after Babs taught me blackmail, but he actually likes those monstrosities.”

“Who likes what monstrosities?” Shit Dick, wear a bell!

“Uhh… Penguin likes Croc and Clayface because they’re easily bribed?” Nice catch that Tim.

“So, we have come to a decision about Timmy. Alfred will drive you home in those hand-me downs, leaving your uniform here, and tomorrow evening you come back to the manor and patrol with Batman so he can be sure you taking down Catwoman was a combination of training and luck, not just extreme amounts of luck.” Taking down Catwoman? Jason’s first patrol just became very unimpressive.

“Well then Young Master Timothy, if you will follow me.” Young Master? It’s cute how B thinks he has any say in this kid’s involvement with the Bats.

* * *

 

“Why did you sent Dick to tell them, Barbara?”

_“There’s something else we need to talk about to do with Tim.”_

“Go ahead”

_“The files I just sent you show how often his parents are in the country. Neglectful just doesn’t cover it.”_

“What do you want me to do? Even if we could get enough evidence together to ensure a conviction, there would be no way to put the case before a court without risking our identities.”

_“If we manage to get a good case and a justification to use it, can you give me your full support in getting Tim a better home, probably with one of us?”_

“One of?”

_“I’m not certain I’m ready to be a mother, I’m barely in my twenties, but his mother definitely isn’t ready, and she’s been one for 12 years. I’d only offer if I felt that living with me would be better for Tim when everything’s airtight, and you were unwilling to take him in, in any case.”_

“Very well. If a good case is made, you will have my full support.”

_“Thank you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. This chapter. This chapter. This is the only chapter I've written so far that didn't want to be written. Seriously. If at any point the characterisation seems forced, it probably was. At least it's better than the first draft. Nobody shall ever see the first draft. EVER.  
> On a more positive note, Tim has somehow gained the Alfred seal of approval (There will be an explanation. Eventually. I promise.) so Bruce can't realistically do more than bench him and demand more training. (Or have him trained as a butler-helper, I suppose.)


	6. How to foil a B-list criminal's plot

The part of Tim that was Janet Drake’s perfect heir wanted to strangle himself for stopping mid-conversation with one of Bruce Wayne’s adoptees, but the rest of him allowed it because-

“You have a _giant penny_ in your _cave!_ ” Jason frowned at him.

“How did you miss that yesterday? And people generally comment on the dinosaur.” A small smile appeared on Tim’s face.

“I _was_ the primary focus of an angry Batglare.” Which had taught Tim why Barbara had made a numbered chart detailing the variations. “And if I wanted dinosaurs I’d go to Metropolis on a Tuesday.” Jason gives him a slow nod, conceding the point.

“I’ll give you the full tour another time, but this is where we change, and the locker Alfie chose for you.” A locker for a probationary hero with his name printed on it? Alfred  _had_ shown some support last night, maybe this was part of that support. Tim just hoped Babs's description of his place in the bat-hierarchy was accurate.

“B insisted on refilling your utility” Tim took a step back “belt so-WHAT THE FUCK DICK GERROFFME!!” and neatly got outside of Dick’s hugging range.

“Aww, Babybat escaped. Oh well. Little Wing, you’re with me tonight.” Jason paused his attempts to escape the human octopus.

“You argued him out of benching me?” So _that_ was why Batman was wearing Batglare #15.1 (Losing an argument with another superhero, Nightwing variation.). He’d seen that Dick’s presence was improving Batman/Robin relations to a degree, but he hadn’t thought it was by fighting against Batman’s decisions.

The Janet’s heir side of Tim resurfaced, reminding him that he had yet to present himself to the master of the house. The rest of him agreed, if only to escape the possibility of Dick deciding that he needed to hug ‘Babybat’.

He didn’t say anything, and neither did Batman at first, he just gave Tim an inscrutable look that could say anything from _‘Why did you come back here?’_ to _‘I’m glad to see I’m not the only one to avoid my eldest in cuddle-mode.’_ At least the Batglares had definite meanings.

“This note was delivered to GCPD earlier today. I want you to tell me what you can deduct from it.” So that’s how they’re going to play it. Tests from the get-go. Luckily, detective work had always been Tim’s forte.

The note was written on orange paper in purple ink. The contents were fairly simple:

_‘An eye in a blue face_

_Saw an eye in a green face._

_'That eye is like to this eye'_

_Said the first eye,_

_'But in low place_

_Not in high place._

_22.00.’_

“Well, I don’t think it’s Riddler, for all that it follows his M.O.” Could Batman at least change his expression to show if Tim was on the right track or not?

“Elaborate.” Apparently not.

“The colours for one. Purple, yes, orange, no. I’ve seen a few of the more recent Riddler notes, and he leaves the time off nowadays as well, though I’m not sure why. Also I’m pretty certain he’s in Arkham. So, imposter not Riddler.”

“Names?” Batman raised an eyebrow, which in Tim’s opinion was worse than the blank face.

“There was that… Cluemaster guy, but he’s given up on clues recently from what I gather looking over Oracle’s shoulder.” And Tim gathered a lot that way.

“True. The riddle?”

“It’s from the Hobbit, means ‘the sun upon daisies’, so something daisy-related.”

“I’ve checked, nothing major in Gotham meets that description.” Of course nothing did, that was too obvious, but this type of villain would go for something large, something Tim’s parents would be invited to… Oh!

“The art gallery’s new display, Sunsets by Daisy Baggins! The sun upon Daisy’s art! And a reference to the Hobbit in her surname!” Where was that smile when Tim was doing the hard bit, huh!

“Wow, Kid! B was the only one of us to get that anywhere near that fast!” Tim spun to see Dick and Jason applauding him in full costume whilst Babs smiled from a monitor

“Of course he did! Timmers is _my_ student ya know!”

_“I think you mean_ my _student that I let you get away with too much with.”_

Batman got up from his seat and strode towards the Batmobile. “Suit up and we’ll start the field test by checking your deduction.”

* * *

 

Sat in the ceiling of the closed art gallery, Bruce had to admit to being… jealous of Barbara. Tim was clearly green and innocent, but in his fledgling efforts Bruce could see the shade of a great man, just like he could for Jason, and had for Dick before he had left the nest. In another world he could have been a brilliant Robin.

The majority influence on his physical movement was all Nightwing, but instead of his eldest’s ‘bones and gravity are things for other people’ attitude, every action came out as part of a great and ever-evolving plan, much like how he remembered Batgirl acting in the field. How he handled actual combat beyond setting a trap had yet to be determined, but Batman had yet to see anything that was sufficient grounds to bench him. (Alfred had given him a locker and called him ‘Young Master’, banning was not an option. Bruce was many things, but not a fool. Though he wished his I.D. had been kept secret for longer.)

“Right on time.” Black Bat whispered as the doors to the gallery opened and the goons streamed in, surrounding… Cluemaster.

“Seems Cluemaster picked up the riddling habit again. I’ll get him, you start on the lackeys.” Black Bat nodded, and dropped from the ceiling panel simultaneously with Batman.

Cluemaster had never been one of Batman’s more dangerous or physical rogues, and the fact that he fell to a three-strike combo maintained the status quo.

The lower quality of his subordinates and years of fighting alongside a Robin meant it was easy for Batman to keep an eye on Black Bat as he fought. Again, there was nothing that Batman could find that was grounds for benching. Black Bat didn’t quite have Batgirl’s ballerina-like grace, nor Nightwing’s fluid acrobatics, and definitely not Robin’s fiery brawl. If he had to make a comparison it would be to a well-oiled machine, every movement smooth and precise, calculated to bring down the foe as fast as possible, though he obviously had no experience fighting groups of enemies.

Batman took out the men that had managed to corner Black Bat, and Black Bat returned the favour with an acceptable display of batarang accuracy that took out the remaining goons.

“O called the police already, should we leave, or go public with my existence?” Good question.

“You go, we’ll meet on the roof when this is over.” Black Bat nodded and slipped into the shadows in a display of stealth skills that really shouldn't have startled Batman, given Black Bat's history. There was no way he was going to be able to keep this kid off the streets, Dick and Jason had been allowed out at similar skill levels

* * *

 

“Well, how’d it go? He passed right?” Tim wished Dick’s confidence in his abilities carried over to Batman as they entered the Batcave. Batman hadn’t said a word to him that wasn’t a criticism or orders.

Batman ignored Dick entirely, stalking over to the computer to dial up a connection to someone, probably Babs.

_“Why good evening Bruce, I assume you’re telling me to ‘carry on as usual with your apprentice’?”_   A small smile appeared on Batman’s face.

“Black Bat’s skills are… more than adequate. I can raise no objection.” Oh. Batman could really have _told_ Tim that. It would have made thing a lot less awkward. (Unless Babs’s and Dick’s stories were true and putting on the cowl erased his social skills.)

“More importantly, Oracle, keep close surveillance on Cluemaster. I suspect there are other factors involved in this crime, and he may escape soon as a result.” Babs nodded onscreen.

_“Other factors?”_

“As Black Bat pointed out, there have been other Cluemaster crimes of similar magnitude committed without riddles warning us. I suspect a third factor has entered the equation on either our side or his.” That… made a lot of sense actually. No wonder Batman was called the World’s Greatest Detective.

_“Understood. What should we call this new factor?”_ Tim stepped towards Batman and Babs’s screen.

“Well, uh, they spoiled the crime, so how about, um, Spoiler?”

_“Sounds good, I’ll keep an eye out. Tim, go home and get some sleep, you have school and training tomorrow, remember.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking up the riddle for this chapter was a surprising amount of fun, though in the future I may stick to Two-face's easier duality-themed crimes. Also, that was my first ever proper fight scene, which probably explains why there was so little description of the fight itself. (As well as B being more interested in how Tim fought than Cluemaster's sucky goons.) Is this Spoiler the same Spoiler as in canon? Who knows? (I do!) You'll have to wait and see.


	7. How to get yourself badly reported in the newspapers.

** NEW BAT ON THE BLOCK? **

_By V. Vale_

Batman and a small sidekick were responsible for taking down Cluemaster’s attempt at robbing the Gotham Art Gallery the night before last. Nothing strange there, the Dynamic Duo working together as normal right? What if I told you that _at the exact same time_ Robin and Nightwing were restraining a rampaging Clayface? So who fought alongside the Dark Knight?

An anonymous member of the GCPD revealed that interviews with Cluemaster’s underlings gave the following description. “Small, somewhere between 4’10 and 5’1, with black hair and an androgynous face. Outfit is black and grey with a green cape lining and batsymbol in the same colour on the chest.” Our artist’s impression is above. The description continues with “According to most of the criminals, the ‘Mini Bat’ fights like, and I quote ‘A ****ing unstoppable demon from H*ll’” We at the _Gazette_ apologise for the language, but it’s the politest quote they had for us.

Clearly this isn’t Batgirl back from her long sabbatical, but who is it? A bored rich kid out for kicks? A devoted Batman fan helping his hero? Or just a stalker the Bat can’t lose? Time will tell…

_More on this on pg9, Catwoman’s daring escape on pg11_

* * *

 

“Well none of her theories are exactly _wrong._ Though I take exception to the demon comment. And the name Mini Bat.” Babs smiled at Tim.

“You’ve made the news faster in two days of being an active vigilante than you have in thirteen years of being the child of two of Gotham’s richest people.” Tim’s head drooped slightly, and Barbara cursed herself mentally. The Drakes had been out of contact for at least four months at this point. “Pity all my plans are collapsing around my ears, I had hoped that you could meet my father in both guises before Batman and the media took you seriously.” The drooping head shot right up. “So guess what we’re doing today!”

“Uh, introducing me to Commissioner Gordon, training, then introducing me to him again in my work clothes?”

“No, I want to reduce the correlation between Black Bat and Tim Drake in his mind. Combat training with me, then combat training with Dick _and_ Jason, then BB meets the parent, then back here to work on your hacking. Let’s get started shall we?”

“No patrol?”  
“You’ll patrol when I’m confident you’ll obey the spirit of Bruce and my instructions, not before.”

* * *

 

Steph fumed at the paper. Spoiler had put in most of the hard work and who got the credit?! Bat-boob and his tiny daughter! Seriously, the artist’s impression looked too much like the guy and his Robin-sons (Hey what if their surname was Robinson, it would explain the odd name combo!), she just had to be related. Maybe a new Batgirl? The old one had been ‘on sabbatical’ for longer than Vicki Vale seemed to think. Yeah, that made sense.

Hey, wait! She was supposed to be mad at this girl, not theorising about her. Maybe if Spoiler delivered another clue, this one about her father’s gang’s planned prison break, she’d get into the papers too.

* * *

 

For (much as he was ashamed to admit it) not the first time in his life, Bruce wished he’d been born a kryptonian so he could destroy the offending newspaper with his glare. On his left Jason was chortling at the artist’s impression of Tim in his Black Bat uniform, which was shockingly bad, while on his right Dick had several Batman chatrooms open on his laptop and was laughing at the speculation, while adding his own ‘theories’.

“I would suggest laser eye surgery sir, but alas it does not live up to its promising name by granting one vision akin to Master Kent’s, who is incidentally at the door hoping to interview Gotham’s great and good on their new ‘Mini-Bat’.” Bruce sighed, handed the paper to Jason to read properly, and got up from the breakfast table.

“I’ll see him in the good study, Alfred.” And then he’d find the source of the leak and…

“Oh, and as an aside sir, should Batman attempt his ‘I am the night’ act on the innocent instigator of this story he would have to cook for himself for a week, as well as for any Robins that aided him.” Do nothing to said source. Except report them to Oracle. Maybe.

* * *

 

Clark was lucky he hadn’t been taking a drink when Perry told him about his new assignment, or the resulting spit take might have taken out the office. As it was he was thanking every god he could think of that he had been sitting in a chair with a reputation for being rickety.

Bruce had never taken on a sidekick without telling him beforehand. What had made this one different? Supposedly he had come to Wayne Manor to get ‘Brucie Wayne’s’ opinion of the new vigilante, but they’d had similar interviews so many times that Clark could make them up almost without assistance. (Also the vast grounds made using it as a landing point ideal when in Gotham on civilian business.)

“I suppose we should start with ‘Brucie’s’ opinion, just so we don’t forget.” Behind his desk, Bruce rolled his eyes, then dropped into his horrifyingly glassy-eyed (For anyone who knew the real him) public face.

“Well, chum, I have absolutely no idea how a kid his age could tear himself away from virtual reality long enough to do anything, you should see the trouble I have with Jason, right Tiger?” There was a muffled squawk from outside, though when Clark looked with his x-ray vision neither Jason nor Dick looked inclined to actually move away. (Jason looked more likely to break in, but Dick was holding him back.)

“That should be enough, if anyone asks to see my notes I’ll pad them with dating anecdotes, no one expects Shakespeare from Brucie anyway.” The dark light returned to Bruce’s eyes as his face relaxed. “So do I get an explanation for this new kid? You normally consult at least me and Diana before you bring someone else into the fold.”

“The number of people I consult beforehand had been dropping, is it that hard to believe that I would eventually stop.” Clark felt his face settle in the blank expression Barry liked to call ‘Supes’ lie-seeing vision’.

“You consult people to make sure you aren’t going to be like the people who looked after you when you’re parents died. That won’t change so quickly.” Bruce nodded tersely, conceding the point but not liking it being bought up before his kids. At least that’s what Clark hoped. He could have been agreeing with an internal plan to build a kryptonite guided missile and fire it at Superman, then blame it all on Lex Luthor.

“I didn’t have the time, I only found out he existed on Thursday, and then WE took up all my attention save for on Friday night where I was testing his capabilities. And he answers to Black Bat.” The clipped tone was meant to repel questioning, but there were advantages to being an invulnerable journalist. Your curiosity rarely got you hurt.

“How did you and Oracle miss someone being trained to Robin standards in your own city?”

“He’s trained to Batgirl standards, not Robin, and Oracle did the training. Now, I’m sorry to cut this off abruptly,” Of course you are, Bruce. Of course you are. “But I have to go to work, and probably give a press conference re-establishing that I do not have any part in Batman’s business, so save any more questions for the next League meeting.” Clark nodded, then blinked in surprise as Bruce got to his feet.

“Wait, you’re coming of your own free will?” Bruce gave him a strange look as he took both their coats from Alfred, who had somehow materialised the second they started to stand.

“You _are_ aware how rumour-happy Flash and the two Greens get when I don’t come after a major Gotham event?” It was Clark’s turn to concede the point, “See you then, then.”

* * *

 

The Batsignal carved through the Gotham skyline like a scalpel around a tumour. Down at its source, Jim Gordon shivered while waiting for the Batman to arrive.

“He’ll be a few minutes more, his hideout is a bit further from the city centre than mine.” With a selection of swearwords, the various members of the GCPD on the roof spun to face the unfamiliar voice, hands flying towards their service pistols and halting as they registered the intruder’s size and the symbol on his chest. “I probably should have announced my presence a bit more, huh?” Bullock was the first officer to break the silence from their side.

“Did Bats put Robin in the wash with his clothes and _shrink_ him!?” Montoya shook her head at the older policeman and stepped closer to the small vigilante, holding out her hand for him to shake.

“Hello, would I be correct in assuming that you are the ‘Fucking Evil Shitty Ninja Midget Bastard’ we’ve all heard so much about?” The kid shook her hand and took a florid bow.

“Black Bat, at your service. Do you mind if I use that quote in my resume? It’s far better than the ‘appropriate’ ones they ran in the media today. Though I’d like to state for the record that I’m actually quite a good ninja.” Jim stepped forward and prepared to give …Black Bat the same speech he’d given both Robins and Bab- Batgirl, she was Batgirl in that outfit- about _‘Are you sure you’re ready for this if anybody forced you into this you can tell me’_ when-

“Black Bat is more than ready for field work Commissioner, and far older than he looks.” –Batman and both Nightwing and Robin appeared behind him. “Why did you call us here?”

“Trying to meet… Black Bat was one reason, I admit.” Dammit, he’d known the man for years, and his blank gaze still gave Jim pause for thought. “There were two other issues I wanted to raise.” This earned him a twitch Jim had come to assume was a nod to ‘go on’. “Catwoman escaped last night, the details are here.” The folder he handed to Batman immediately ended up in Black Bat’s hands.

“Homework.” Batman growled. “Find three ways her escape could have been stopped, and compare them to mine. O has my solutions already.” And of course he already had that information. He could have at least pretended while on the rooftop with Jim.

“Second was this, another orange and purple note. We’ve attached our solution to the riddle, but we can’t quite tell what the solution means.” Batman nodded and tucked the note away.

“I’ll contact you with the details you need to know later. Nightwing, you take Black Bat for tonight on the route we discussed.”

“Sure thing, B” The momentary shift of Jim’s attention to Nightwing was enough for Batman and Robin to vanish, and the shock of that realisation covered Nightwing and Black Bat’s escape, at least presumably. Bullock summed it up neatly:

“Vanishing in front of us? At least he _used_ ta have the manners ta disappear when our backs were turned.”

Jim sighed and set off back to his office. Working out if his daughter knew and approved that someone was running around in a costume similar to her old one whilst not letting her know he knew she _had_ an old costume was going to be a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh, Steph? I hate to break it to you, but media attention isn't actually the primary goal of being a vigilante. And why are you even in this chapter? My plan doesn't bring you back in until chapter 9-ish. Oh well. What a pity. Never mind. To be honest, this whole chapter sorta came out of nowhere, so Steph's sudden appearance shouldn't be more surprising than Vicki Vale's article that just popped into my head one morning and wouldn't leave until I found somewhere to put it. At I did need to show reactions from select (Read: one) members of the wider DCU at some point.


	8. How to avoid fighting Scarecrow.

“Care to explain _why_ you spent last night running across the rooftops with Nightwing and not back here with me?”

Tim offered Babs a wan smile. “You said I should obey the orders of Batman or you and he told me to go with Dick?” Babs responded with a deadpan expression.

“Ok, new rule. Unless you are in a situation in the field in which I can’t advise you, my orders take precedence over Bruce’s.” Tim nodded and chose not to mention the number of loopholes he’d already seen the rule. “Due to the skill you showed last night, you’ll only be benched until-” Something on one of Bab’s screens caught her eye. “-now. Get suited up, we have a bit of a situation.”

“A _bit_ of a situation? Is it something to do with last night’s note?” Tim threw over his shoulder as he ran to the locker his uniform was kept in.

“What- Oh, no, that was warning us about an Arkham escape for Cluemaster next week. The _current_ situation is that Robin was supposed to be benched tonight, as Batman is at a league meeting and Dick Grayson is attending a charity gala in his father’s place, so there’s no backup for him. Jason seems to have decided that said benching was optional.”

“Isn’t he good enough to go solo?” Because he’d definitely done it the night of Tim’s first patrol.

“Provided someone more experienced is in the general area in case of emergency? Yup. But there isn’t, so you’re going to join up with him, as a ‘two heads better than one’ sort of deal.” Tim wasn’t sure exactly how he could help someone that much more experienced, but wasn’t going to turn down a chance to fly alongside the current Robin.

* * *

 

Jason glared down from his perch in the abandoned warehouse’s rafters at Scarecrow’s hunched back. The creep had escaped from Arkham a while back, and apparently stayed below bat-radar by _never_ leaving his squat if the stench and the mouldy trash pile at the foot of the arc lamp were anything to go by. Well, the piles of debris would give Scarecrow a soft landing when Robin kicked his ass. Jason slipped to his feet and got ready to pounce when-

“What do you think you’re doing?” Someone grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear. Oh fuck, it was the kid, he was going to get grassed up. “I’m not going to tell anyone, I’m as benched as you are. Maybe more so, Batman doesn’t strike me as a mother-hen in the same why Babs does.” Speaking of mother-hen keyboard mistresses-

“You do realise that O will be monitoring you and now _knows where we both are_?” Jason hissed in the kid’s face. Tim somehow looked both definitions of nonplussed.

“I, uh, was the one who set up her monitoring in my house and costume. There’s a chain of blind spots only someone my size can exploit leading from my bed to an escape point, and the tracker can be set up to broadcast a false positive.” And the kid had been going below her radar in Gotham for ages. Jason didn’t know whether to be impressed or give him a security talk.

“I was _going_ to bag Crane, but your little appearing act means he-” hadn’t been alerted. In fact, he hadn’t moved. At all.

“I think he’s asleep.” Fuck, he was and all. And Jason had wasted _so much time_ on perfect stealth. Well, there was still a Big Bad to catch. “You are aware that if we capture him directly O and A will find out that we snuck off and partake in passive-aggressive hacking and professional disappointment?” Who used ‘partake’ in their everyday speech? Black Bat apparently. And he pointed out another thing Jason overlooked, damn. Robin was supposed to be the _senior hero_ here.

“We should try and make a situation which drives Scarecrow out and into police custody. So long as they’re forewarned and have gas masks and riot gear, Crane can’t do much, he’s kinda like a jump-scare horror game.” There, starting a plan of attack, very ‘elder student helping younger’. “Any ideas, kid?” Time to see if Tim could use tactics. Not that Jason did as often as B liked, but he wasn’t getting Tim hurt because Robin went overboard.

“I don’t know, controlled arson?” Not the answer Jason expected.

“Are you fucking kidding me? We don’t know what’s in those crates, but I’m betting its pressurised fear gas. Get them too hot and boom! Warehouse scattered for several blocks, and free panic attacks for most of the surrounding community. Also he may not wake up and then we’d be murderers. _Do you want to find out what B does to murderer Robins and Batgirls?_ Me neither.”

“I was thinking the fire alarm would-”

“This place’s been left alone for too long to assume that the fire alarm still works. We only have light cause Crane bought those arc lamps with him. Though that has given me an idea. Open a fear gas canister, giving him a taste of what he’s done to others and attracting attention with one fell swoop.” The kid stared at him.

“Jason, _no._ ”

“No names in the field squirt, and why not.”

“For one, anyone who tries to investigate will get a ‘free panic attack’.” Ok, point to the kid. “Also, I doubt he’d work with a poison without having an antidote to hand, he’s crazy not stupid." And another point. "And that would mean he’d be alerted to our presence and move on without leaving many clues, or just attack us.” And that was game, set, match to Tiny Tim.

“Ok then, no fear gas.” It’s not like it was a serious plan. Mostly.

“How about a phone call to the GCPD from a pair of runaways looking for a place to stay who stumbled upon Scarecrow’s hideout?”

“In _Gotham?_ Not a chance, they’d be committing suicide.” Though it was going in Jason’s playbook for operations in less corrupt cities. Unless there was… Jason scanned the entrances. Oh! That’d do nicely. “I can scream, how well can you do ‘panicking younger brother’?”

“You have a plan?”

“It’s your runaways plan with a difference. You see that door?”

“The one with the oversized lock? Oh!”

“What’s the betting it has a fear gas trap attached to it?” Tim had an evil smirk on his face that _definitely_ mirrored the one on Jason’s own.

* * *

 

“911, what is your emergency?” The operator frowned at the screams coming from the other end. _Don’t be a threat from a psycho, don’t be a threat from a psycho…_

_“Please, ya gotta help me! Me an’ my brother, we were lookin’ fer sumplace ta stay an’ Alvin tried the door of this warehouse an’ this green gas shot out an’ now he won’ stop_ screamin’!” The operator blanched. There was only one green gas that made the victim scream like _that._

“Where was the warehouse?”

_“One of the small abandoned uns on the east dock, nummer 93.”_ The operator nodded and hit the _‘Arkham escapee, all forces respond’_ button, typing in the details as fast as she could.

“Ok sweetie, your brother’s going to be just fine. Was it a small cloud or a large one?” Not that size mattered much if the dose was concentrated.

_“Just a small puff, I din’t smell anything, an’ I was right behind ‘im.”_ So not a dangerous dose by any means.

“Sounds like a low dose to me, Alvin should be fine with time, but just in case can you tell me your name and where you’re calling from so I can send an ambulance?”

_“Nuh-uh, Al said not to tell nobody my name without his say-so, an’ if it wears off with time we dun need no busybodies sendin’ us back.”_

“Back where, kid?” The only response was a *click* as the phone cut out. “Damn!”

* * *

 

“Why do you have throat lozenges in your utility belt? Not that I’m complaining after all that screaming.” Tim gave Jason a small smile and settled down on the roof opposite the payphone they’d called from.

“Dick.” Which said it all really.

“Oh. But shit, kid that was the best scared child impression I’ve ever heard, where’d you learn it.”

“When you’re a tiny child dragged to high society events, ‘losing’ your parents and begging someone to help you find them is sometimes the most entertainment available. It’s almost a shame I’ve grown too big for it to work.” Jason gave him what was probably a pitying look, then started.

“Fuck, the charity gala! Disco’ll be finishing up there soon, then going home to check up on me and suit up. I gotta get home, now!” Tim waved at Jason’s retreating back and got a two-fingered salute as Jason grappled off.

_“I have to agree with Jason, that was a_ brilliant _impression. Why’d you lie to him about sneaking out though? And are those modifications real?”_

“Second question first: would I tell you?” The blind spots were, but Tim was waiting on fiddling with the tracker. “First question second: if Jason knew you sent me, he’d spend his time looking for our angle, because he still doesn’t quite trust altruism. You told me that when I asked why you didn’t have Jason train me, remember? If I also snuck out, I’d be a kindred spirit in working around these unreasonable adults.”

_“Fair point, now come back to base. I am extracting two days worth of benching from you, even if I have to do it an hour at a time.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should rename this fic 'How to beat Batman's A-rank villains without actually fighting them, but beat up the B-rankers'. It'd be accurate. Originally this chapter had a big Scarecrow fight, but then I realised the amount of trouble they'd get in for that, and had a lot of fun thinking of a way to beat him without fighting. Both Jason and Tim's earlier suggestions were ways this chapter would have ended at one point or another.


	9. How to run a (almost) solo investigation

“Ok, and you’re _sure_ Batman isn’t coming here to ream me out for helping Jason when he snuck out.” Over by her computer system, Babs let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Tim that happened _two weeks ago,_ you can stop stressing out about it. I am sure.” Tim began fiddling with his escrima sticks as he waited.

“You know why he’s coming.” Babs made an affirming noise while not removing her focus from the screen. “And you’re not going to tell me.” The same noise again.

“If you’re so bored, use those sticks to actually practise, instead of continually extending and retracting them. Now this place actually has decent security, so if you could let me hack…” Rolling his eyes, Tim settled into the starting stance for the first kata Dick had taught him. Both Babs and Dick had chosen escrima as their preferred close-range weapon, so naturally their first pupil would end up using them too. Tim personally would have rather had a bit of a longer reach to counteract his small size, something like a staff. Maybe he could modify a pair of escrima to combine into a staff? That way these katas wouldn’t become useless, and he could choose a weapon that suited the situation. He’d talk it over with Babs later.

“Oracle. Black Bat.” Batman chose to appear in the room just as Tim finished his third run-through of the kata. Jason clambered in the open window that had to have been Batman’s entry point as the Dark Knight stalked over to stand behind Babs.

“Mad Hatter escaped from Arkham this afternoon.” Ok, so no ‘I know what you did Monday before last’. Good so far. “Initially my plan was for Nightwing or myself to investigate with one of Robin or Black Bat along to learn from it. However, it was bought to my attention that it may be… beneficial for the two of you to run this investigation by yourselves.” Did Tim just hear him right? Did Batman just give them permission to work on a case on their own? “Oracle, Nightwing and myself will be available to provide support.” He did. When exactly did they swap universes?

“So is this why you gave me the R-cycle today?” Jason looked mildly suspicious, but there was the beginnings of a smile on his face.

“It was intended to allow you to traverse the city quickly and independently, yes. I was incapable of miniaturising all Batmobile functions, there’s a list of the ones I failed to add under the seat, and the speed is more limited.” And he’d been handing out presents. Had there been another JLA mind-swap, was this actually Superman in Batman’s body? Tim and Jason looked to Babs, who gave them the hand signal for ‘situation normal’.

“Lemme guess, there’s a full suite of on-board trackers.” Batman gave Jason a long look. “Yeah, silly question. Ok then, c’mon Tiny Tim, let’s try out my new ride!”

* * *

 

If the universe-swap/ mind-swap/ psychotropic drugs in his coffee (Having seen Batman at his worst during his stalker days, Tim _really_ wouldn’t put it past Alfred.) meant that Batman gave out gifts like _this,_ Tim really hoped it lasted longer or that he was still around for the next one. The R-cycle’s speed was almost exhilarating enough to distract him from their first destination.

“There it is, BB. Arkham. You ever been here before?” Well he’d been _offered_ a school trip to the lower security areas last year, but Tim hadn’t been convinced of the safety, and there was a parental consent form that needed filling in anyway so…

“O has given me a virtual tour via security camera, but not in person.” He was expecting some sort of gruff comment on how inadequate that was, not:

“Stick by me then. No matter what they claim, they don’t send people here to fix ‘em, ‘specially after what happened to Harley fuckin’ Quinn.”

A blonde-haired woman met them at the entrance, a smile that was probably supposed to be soothing stuck on her face so solidly Tim was tempted to ask if she used diluted Joker venom to achieve it. (A very real trend in Gotham high society before his killings moved up the social scale.)

“Good evening Robin, and you must be the new one, Mini-bat, was it? My name’s Doctor Kettering, and Mr Arkham has just appointed me Bat-liaison. I assume you’ll want to see the cell, the security records and Dr Singh’s patient records.” Tim restrained the urge to sigh. Vicki Vale’s article was still the first source Gothamites went to for his name, despite the fact that Superman’s had used his actual name and was far better written (But had been on the fifth page of the Daily Planet, not first of the Gotham Gazette).

“Just the cell and any records that aren’t on the server, we can retrieve the rest through the access your employer so _graciously_ provided. Oh, and not to be rude, but my partner prefers Black Bat to Vale’s pet-name.” That was uncharacteristically polite for Jason. Tim was about to bring it up, but Jason grabbed his wrist as they started to follow the doctor. In rapid Morse code he tapped out.

_“Arkham not Bat fan. B-liaison job means soon be fired. Be nice.”_ That made a lot more sense, especially considering the ‘special access’ was a cover story for Babs hacking the system. Tim pulled his hand free and sped up to get closer to Dr Kettering. He’d been worried that no one at the asylum would be willing to talk, but soon to be fired or not, her role meant questioning her would be easy. Especially when she initiated the conversation.

“I have to say, I expected one of the older Bats to be with you, are they all busy?”

“They’re around, they just want to see how well the two of us do ‘solo’. You mentioned a Dr Singh earlier, was he the one who did the most work with Ma- Mr Tetch?” Babs had been derisive of Arkham’s ‘call-em-by-their-legal-names-and-they’ll-open-up’ ideals, but when working with an Arkham employee it couldn’t hurt to play along.

Her smile widened in a way that only reinforced the Joker venom theory. “Yes, Mr Tetch was someone he’d studied since he first came here. He claimed he was getting close to a real breakthrough before this happened.”

Jason pulled up on her other side, clearly understanding where Tim was going. “So given Tetch’s tendency towards mind-control, he’s our likely first victim.”

“That does sound likely to an outsider, but the rules on haberdashery around Mr Tetch’s cell are _very_ strict. I simply can’t see how he could have been controlled without us noticing.” Tim could.

“I hate to sound like I’m stereotyping by surname, but was Dr Singh a Sikh?”

“Why, yes. He always complained about the amount of paperwork he’d had to fill in to get near Mr Tetch while wearing his… turban…” Dr Kettering stopped walking and blanched while Jason and Tim shared a look of sheer exasperation.

“So we know how he got out of his cell, even if we don’t know how the tech got in Dr Singh’s turban. We still don’t know how he got out or where he went. Hopefully there’s a clue in the files or the cell.” Despite the shade of her skin, the doctor somehow managed to go whiter.

“Dr…Dr Singh took a pot of coffee to the gate guards before going to his appointment with Mr Tetch. They were later found sleeping on the job, though Dr Singh had signed out as normal. I wouldn’t know how Mr Tetch got from his cell to the entrance.” Both Jason and Tim shot each other the sign for ‘easy infiltration, poor camera coverage’ simultaneously behind her back, followed by a quick grin.

“This is probably going to sound like a non sequitur, because it is one, but was Mr Tetch allowed to retain his hat while in the cell?” Tim didn’t bother clarifying any more, there was only one hat in Gotham he could be referring to. Jason flashed him the ‘what are you doing’ sign. Oddly, there was no sign for ‘testing a theory’, so Tim replied with jazz hands.

“Normally no, but a few of the newer doctors  would only be willing to work here if a few of our more minor patients were allowed to possess important items to their psychoses, Mr Tetch’s hat, Mr Wesker’s puppet, that sort of thing. Supposedly it would give them more insight into their minds. We needed better publicity and more staff after Dr Quinzell, so we agreed.”

“Was Dr Singh among those newer staff?”

“No, he was old guard. Been working with Mr Tetch since day one. Probably why we didn’t see the risk potential of his turban.” So Hatter had escaped without controlling Singh at least once. That seemed unnecessarily hard, unless… Well, Tim had the beginnings of a theory, but they could wait until they were able to talk to Babs. “This is the cell now. I’ll wait outside.”

The cell was off-white, square, padded and otherwise totally blank. “The least he could have done was leave a fuckin’ note.” Tim peered under the off-white, square, padded bunk in case Hatter _had_ left a note while wondering how this was supposed to make people better. All that money and it had never occurred to Batman that he could buy this place and at the least reduce the escape rate. “I know what you’re thinking, kid. B’s tried to buy this place five times through various methods, Arkham refuses to believe there’s anything wrong with it and won’t sell.” Ok, so it had occurred to him.

“I see no clues here, let’s pick up the offline files and chat to O once we’re well away from here about what she’s learned from the online ones.”

* * *

 

_“So you know how he got out but not where he went. That’s good, because I had no idea how he got out but a list of places he might have gone to.”_ Tim let out a sigh of relief. _“How many offline files were there?”_

“One, and it was written under mind-control, mainly unintelligible scribbles with a few muddled quotes from Lewis Carroll. Actually, that brings up something I was meaning to ask, do we have a schematic of one of Hatter’s hats?” There was a brief silence in which Tim fiddled with his escrima again and Jason glared at the where the offending file sat on the R-cycle’s seat.

_“I do, do either of you have something I could send it to?”_ Tim shrugged and turned to Jason who was scanning the small selection of controls between the handlebars of the R-cycles while muttering to himself.

“It wasn’t on the list of Batmobile functions he was unable to miniaturise, not that it was a very helpful list given how many damn abilities he’s given that car, so there should be an on switch somewhere… Ah!” The central headlamp pushed forward and tilted back as it lit up with a pale blue glow. “Ok O, the R-cycle’s holoprojector is online, but the on-board computer’s not as good as the Batmobile so I don’t know if it managed to connect to your network.”

_“No, I see it. Here you go.”_ The blue glow sharped as a wire-frame skullcap formed in the air above the headlamp. _“This is the basic design, though it varies from hat to hat. Injectors here and here”_ Two sections of the model turned red “ _provide psychotropic drugs, while electrical stimulation to portions of the brain to encourage obedience come from these arms.”_ Several portions of the wire-frame turned blue.

Tim frowned and scanned the un-highlighted portions. “What does the disk at the top do?”

_“Not sure, diagram notes it as ‘receiver of unknown purpose’”._ Tim nodded. His theory worked.

“What if Hatter has a transmitter on his person, and the stimulation only starts when the receiver gets that signal? Otherwise the hat-wearer could obey anybody’s orders.” Jason clapped Tim on the shoulder.

“That’s fuckin’ genius BB! An’ if the transmitter was in his hat then that’s why he could take control of his doctor this time, but had to try other methods before even though it was the same damn doctor! Then if we steal the hat we can order his victims to take their hats off!” Tim smiled at Jason.

“I was getting to that bit, but yes. You mentioned you had a list of locations for us, O.”

_“Yup, keep an eye out for Ivy, boys, the most frequent place Hatter mentioned was that he couldn’t wait to have tea parties in Robinson Park.”_ Of course. This case had to take them to the two most intimidating places in Gotham. What else could Tim expect?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's... not much of a cliffhanger. The original chapter nine was about twice as long as I was comfortable posting for the time being, and the two reasonable splitting points were there, approximately at the middle, or more of a cliffhanger in the middle of what is now chapter ten. I went for the one that made the two similar lengths, effective endings be damned! Trying to science Mad Hatter's hats was fun, though.


	10. How to Spoil Mad Hatter's tea party

Compared to Arkham, Robinson Park didn’t present as much of an intimidating silhouette, with its tallest structure being its trees and its decidedly less gothic gates. Then Tim remembered (not that he’d really forgotten) that the park was home to a misanthropic chlorokinetic eco-terrorist and jam-packed with her plant 'children'. That restored the terror factor.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you’ve been here before, right?” Tim turned to where Jason was securing the R-cycle on the fence and nodded.

“A few times with my nurse, then once or twice to photograph you.” His parents had promised to take him once, then something had come up and by the time they returned he was ‘too old’ for parks. “Never when Ivy was present, but I picked up the rules from other children.” Keep out of the areas surrounded by the warning bell flowers, stay off the grass as much as possible, definitely never go into any of the plant beds, and no picking flowers.

“Yeah, those rules don’t always keep you safe when you’ve got one of our symbols on your chest. But we try to keep to them as much as we can, this is a fuckin’ terrible place ta fight Ivy.” Not that they always had a choice. Especially if Hatter was involved.

“Do you think Hatter wants to take control of Ivy? I mean, she’d probably make an ideal Red Queen for his view of the world.” Jason shuddered.

“Even if he did, I doubt he’s got enough forces to do that just now, even if he can round up a small army fairly quickly by chucking hats on people in dark alleys. The more likely team-up is Ivy using her plants to control Hatter and through him his victims.

The lock on the gate was so easy to pick Tim was certain it was little more than a courtesy to pretend the city still controlled this space. The gate itself thankfully swung open without a sound, reducing the chances of either of the Rogues present finding them.

“Hello boys, I assume you’re here for Hatter?” Apparently not reducing them enough. Poison Ivy was sat in a tree beside the gatepost, invisible from the road, all too visible now. “Oh don’t look at me like that, if it were me you were after the big bad Bat himself would be with you.” Her voice was surprisingly human for someone who was so… emphatically… plant.

“And if we are, what’re y’gonna do?” Jason positioned himself between Tim and Ivy, a birdarang in each hand.

“Why, tell you where he is, of course. Several of my… rarer… children are due to germinate any day now and I simply _cannot_ be overly disturbed or carted off to Arkham until they can support themselves. Letting you two remove Hatter and his… artificial sycophants… is simply the best way to ensure that I receive that peace. They’re by the fountain, drinking the boiled desiccated corpses of my children.” Well that made tea-drinking sound metal. “There’s also a child playing vigilante armed with a half-brick in a sock by the bandstand, I recommend finding her before _they_ do.” And _that_ was an unwanted complication.

Poison Ivy turned her back on them, clearly preparing to vanish. “Oh, and Black Bat, dear?” She threw over her shoulder. “While I don’t approve of your choice of career, I am… glad that you found someone willing to teach you how to defend yourself in Gotham. I was this close to calling Catwoman and telling her about the Bat’s stalker before you disappeared.” She then disappeared herself before either vigilante could process what she said.

“She knew about you.” Jason eventually choked out. “She knew about you and she never even gave us a damn clue.”

“To be fair, you saw how Batman reacted to a fully trained vigilante knowing his I.D. when he found me. How many hoops would a civilian have to leap through to earn the same trust?” Jason shrugged, clearly conceding the point.

“Any other bad guys know about you?”

“Not sure, there was a guy at a charity gala who congratulated me on my photography despite never having seen it. Slade Wilson, I think his name was. Said if I was keeping it up next time he was in town he’d offer me a job. Why are you looking at me like that?” Seriously, Jason was looking at Tim like he’d just admitted to sleeping with both of their mothers.

“O, please tell me you’re hearing your damn apprentice babble about _Deathstroke the Fucking Terminator_ making him a job offer.” Oh, that was why.

_“I am, but I’m also busy trying to stop N from going and castrating said mercenary so-”_ The comm cut out.

“This conversation is nice and all, but uh… Hatter? Goons? DIY vigilante? Might be an idea to focus on the now, not the possible future.” Jason gave him a begrudging nod.

“Bandstand first for the kid, then fountain for the Hatter.”

* * *

 

Steph- Spoiler, she was Spoiler in the suit, why couldn’t she get it _right,_ the new Batgirl probably did and she’d not been doing this much longer- swore and kicked the bandstand. (Why’d they even have a bandstand, not like any bands wanted to play in Robinson Park.) Tracking a group of people in stupid hats through the open part of the park should _not be this hard._ And yet here she was, no torch, no matches, in fact no light source whatsoever, _unable to see the people with tons of them._ And this far from the street it was dark enough that she should have-

“What’re you doing here?” Oh crap! She spun, lashing out with her brick-in-a-sock, and totally missing the small shadow that had been stood behind her.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you here in the dark? Are you with the Hatter? Actually, do you know why the Hatter’s even here? And when-”

“Whoa, whoa, stop with the questions.” A taller shadow stepped forward behind the first one and cracked a glowstick. And oh hell that was Robin, and the shadow that’d come _this close_ to Mr Heavy was the new Batgirl. This was not how she’d envisioned meeting them. Something with more Mary-Sue-ish rescues and snappy one-liners, definitely.

“Ohmigosh I’m so sorry Batgirl I nearly hit you. Are you-”

“A boy? Why, yes I am. Seriously, that’s worse than Mini-bat, why would you even think that?” Wait crap, he was and all. Well somebody just blew all her chances at goodwill from her fellow junior vigilantes.

“Well, uh, Vicki Vale’s article compared you to Batgirl, then when Dad got his visiting hours he kept on repeating how feminine you were so I assumed…” Oh! Dammit they weren’t supposed to know she had a relative in prison who’d fought Bat…boy? What _was_ his name? Not Mini-bat apparently.

“Cluemaster’s daughter, I assume.” How the fuck did he work her identity out so fast?! Visiting hours could have applied to a hospital, for all he knew!

“No I’m not.” Great defence Steph, real great.

“Cluemaster’s the only man I’ve fought to currently be in prison who has any living relatives, I remember because it was just such an odd statistic. I _suppose_ you could be related to a hospitalised police officer, but every police officer I’ve met has used the correct pronoun.” Seriously, universe? Just outright remove any and all plausible deniability why don’t you. And was that Robin laughing at her? Rude.

“So, heh, lemme guess. Yer Dad’s a douche, so you pull on a face mask, a purple hoodie and shin pads, and go around leaving clues about his crimes and attempts by his lackeys to break him out while using a name like ‘Answer’ or some shit like it. Am I right?” On all counts, dammit. Batman’s supposed to be the detective, Robin should just stand around and make him family-friendly.

“The name’s Spoiler, and the hoodie's _eggplant_. Why are you sharing a significant look? Am I interrupting your making-out time? And what makes you think I was the one leaving the notes, anyway?” Well if Robin hadn’t been laughing before, he was now. Batboy made an expression with his eyebrows she assumed was rolling his eyes behind the white-out lenses, and took the glowstick from Robin to keep it steady.

“No, no making out. And we thought that because you dropped one when you swung your… brickie-baby.” Ok, she was remembering the term ‘brickie-baby’, and buying some kitten socks for her half-brick. And where was that note? “You didn’t really drop a note, but if you spend that much time looking for one…” Damn you Batboy! Actually…

“Damn you Batboy!”

“It’s _Black Bat!_ ”

“And I’m the Mad Hatter.” Holy shit, where’d he come from? For that matter, where’d all the blank-faced hat goons come from? They were surrounded! “Now, I couldn’t help but hear you arguing, Masters Robin and Black Bat, and you too, Miss Spoiler. I do find these discussions are easier over a nice cup of tea. Of course, headgear is compulsory, but don’t worry, these gentlemen are more than happy to help.”

* * *

 

Tim mentally ran through an impressive list of swearwords. Both he and Jason had gotten too caught up in ‘discovering-Spoiler’s-real-identity-also-went-by-Spoiler’ to notice the small platoon gathering around them. Luckily, they were next to the side of the bandstand, and there were no guns around, which meant-

“Robin, Spoiler! Get on the bandstand! They can’t get up by any method but the stairs without risking their hats falling off!” Hatter swore.

“Grab the kids now!” Jason had gotten on the bandstand almost before Tim had shouted, so he could give Spoiler a hand up as Tim leapt by himself. The instant he did so, Jason grabbed both of them and pulled them into a huddle.

“BB, you’re with me. S, wait for us to engage them by the stairs, then jump off the far side, sneak around behind them and grab Hatter’s hat. Got it?”

“Y-yes, but why?” Tim pulled his escrima from his belt.

“It’s a control mechanism, you can order them to stop if you’re wearing it.”  There was no time for further explanation, the first goon had reached the top of the stairs, where he was met by a birdarang to the forehead. The second got a double-escrima strike to her gut, the third a fist to the chin, and Tim lost track after that. The stairs were wedge-shaped, and thus formed a bottleneck that meant Tim and Jason only had to deal with at most two at a time. The ones they knocked down were caught by their fellows, and if conscious and controlled, sent back to fight. If not, they were basically crowdsurfed to the back, making the whole scene a surreal combination of zombie apocalypse and concert.

“To me, defend m-AARGH!” The shout from Hatter caught Tim’s attention just in time to see Spoiler swing her brick-in-a-sock between Tetch’s legs. Not an experience he wanted to contemplate further. She followed up with an uppercut that took his hat off, knocked him down, and left her shaking her hand furiously in the face of the horde that was advancing towards her.

“Spoiler! The hat!” She picked it up and jammed it on her head.

“Stop right there! I said stop! Why isn’t it working!?” Tim and Jason started to sprint towards Spoiler, but couldn’t get there before the goons reached her and began to-

-form a mob around her without touching her. “Ok, can anybody tell me why all of a sudden I’m the belle of the ball?”

Jason gave Tim a helpless look, then started. “BB, your theory! It’s the hat Spoiler, they think you’re Hatter, and are obeying his last clear order, to come to him.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why they disobeyed earlier.” Jason turned to Tim and made a ‘come on’ gesture. Either the hat had a DNA scanner and would only work for Tetch, or it was a red herring, which was unlikely, or…

“Did you remove your hood before putting it on?”

“No, I didn’t have time. Oh, you think that’s why it didn’t work! Alright everybody, stand at least two feet away from each other and remove your hats.” The mob started to split up slowly.

“There was probably a mechanism stopping it from transmitting until it was on someone’s actual head, not just a head-shaped… damn.”

The only things in the central circle were Hatter’s hat and one of the orange notes. Spoiler must have slipped through and escaped in the waves of moving lackeys.

Jason picking up the note was oddly sound-effected by the simultaneous ‘wumph’ of all the goons removing their hats and falling down unconscious.

“Huh, I’m pretty sure that’s new. Handy though, Hatter’s fond of using people with anti-bat grudges.”

“What’s the note say.”

“Well on one side it’s an elaborate riddle I’m pretty damn certain will give us details of Cluemaster’s next break-out attempt, on the other it says ‘gtg, sry’. Interesting contrast. Cluemaster can’t have too many daughters, we can track her down.” Tim nodded and went straight for Hatter with the zip-ties.

“If that’s the way she throws a punch, we’ll need to. Do we bind the others now, or wait until they wake up and we can find out if they’ve committed crimes?” Jason frowned and nudged the nearest person over onto their back.

“Probably safer to bind them for now, even if it’s gonna get us bad publicity. Can you see Dr Singh anywhere? He’s the only guy here we can say for sure is innocent.” They both negotiated the collection of sprawled bodies to locate the Arkham doctor, binding the others as they went.

“Oh, there he is, he was one of the people we knocked out at the bandstand. I do hope he understands. Have you been following events here, O, or has Nightwing been taking all your attention?”

_“I’ve been following, I handed N off to Agent A, not a peep since. Police and B are inbound, my cameras are tracking Spoiler, and you two did good work, apart from the whole ‘getting caught off-guard’ thing. Once B gets there, come back here for pizza and videos of Justice League members funniest screw-ups. Oh, and a run-down of major international villains, just in case you’ve met them. I can’t believe I thought only showing you Gotham rogues would be enough.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how fun this chapter was to read, but it was VERY fun to write. I actually feel kinda bad for Hatter, taking what's effectively a mini-flail between the legs is not my idea of a relaxing tea party. Not too bad though, a team-up of both of Gotham's mind-control experts is not something to look forward to.


	11. How to meet your parents, then lose them again.

“Ah, Timothy, _there_ you are. Mrs Mac _told_ me these new coding lessons the Commissioner’s daughter has been giving you meant you got home later, but had I realised she meant this late I’d have sent a car.” Tim’s mother stood in the centre of their entrance hall, dressed impeccably for somebody who was suffering from jetlag, as she had to have returned sometime after Tim left for school. “We have to be at the fundraiser for that animal charity in two hours, and we _must_ present a good family front, Drake Medical’s newest contract rests on the publicity.” Actually, it probably rested on their pitch, but the last time Tim had pointed this out neither of his parents had paid him any attention. Admittedly he _had_ been nine at the time, but anyone who deduces Batman’s identity at that age deserves a _little_ more attention.  “Well, what are you standing around for? Your clothes are on your bed, find me when you’re dressed and I’ll see what I can do with your hair. Oh, and I have a buyer lined up for your photography equipment. Do hurry along.” Tim stopped midway up the staircase as he fully processed what he’d just been told.

“You have a WHAT lined up!?” His mother let out a long-suffering sigh and turned to face him.

“Don’t shout, it goes against the image you want to present.” Does Tim get a say in the image he wants to present? Black Bat does. “A buyer, Timothy. A man who is willing to take it off your hands for money.”

“Why? I mean, you gave me that equipment.”

“I know, and now we’re paying for you to learn to code. I’ve done the math, you can only have one hobby and study to the level necessary to attend a top-rank university and take over Drake Industries when your father retires. You’ve been doing less with your photography lately, but lots of coding. Thus, a buyer. Unless you’d rather stop learning coding?” The ‘coding lessons’ were a chance for Tim to train with Babs and Dick while his parents were in town without having a suspiciously early bedtime and sneaking out, he couldn’t quit them!

“No…”

“Well then, your photography must go. Now, do hurry up, and try to smile! This antidote contract will solidify DI’s medical branch in the market, we just need to look good and it’s guaranteed to us!”

Tim turned and trudged his way to his room, ignoring the various new finds that were in the process of going on display. The suit on his bed was one of his old standbys, which was about the only reason he flopped down to the left of it, instead of right on top like he would have if the profits of his childhood had been used to make him look like the image his mother had of ‘Timothy Jackson Drake’. A knock came at the door.

“Come in.” Tim refused to raise his head to see who it was, but the fact that they hesitated in the doorway let him know anyway. “Hey Dad.”

“Now how do you and your mother _both_ manage to do that?” Great, comparisons to his mother, just what Tim always wanted. “Aren’t you gonna change? If we get this contract we’ll be profiting off every Scarecrow and Joker attack!” And blood money as well, dee-fucking- _lightful._ Tim let his silence speak for itself.

“Is this sulk about being forced to go to this fundraiser with no warning? No, you’re more vocal about that sort of thing.” Anyone who said Tim got his detective skills solely from his mother had never seen his father somehow calculate exactly what was bothering his frequently abandoned son- “It’s the photography, isn’t it. I did suggest Janet should tell you after.” –and then either do nothing or the wrong thing entirely until Tim broke out the lies. “I’m sure it can all be replaced out of your own pocket, and with your new-found computer skills you could use a digital camera instead.” Tim knew from experience that it would only get worse from here, so let the blank expression he usually used at home slip onto his face.

“I’ll be fine, just a bit surprised, that’s all. Would you mind leaving so I can get dressed?”

* * *

 

Apparently ‘present a good family front’ meant ‘drag Tim around by the arm and show him off to everyone, then run off to charm the people whose contract you’re trying to win’. Tim sighed and leant on the balcony railing, ignoring the woman stood at the other end.

“Somebody looks glum.” Spinning, Tim saw Babs glide through the double-doors out onto the balcony.

“Babs! What are you doing here?” She rolled up beside him.

“Bruce got a +1 ticket, but Dick and Jason had stuff they had to do tonight.” As Nightwing and Robin, of course. “So when I found that you’d be here alone instead of with them, I persuaded Bruce to take me instead to keep you company.” That made a lot more sense than any of Tim’s vigilante-based theories. “Now, you still look glum. What happened?” Tim hesitated for a second, bur Babs had been telling and detecting lies for longer than him, and her computer network could turn up a lot of information.

“My parents decided that since I’m learning to code from you, I no longer need my photography gear, and they already have a buyer lined up.” Tim glanced at Babs to see her reaction. She’d pursed her lips and her eyes had gone hard.

“Did they mention any of this before setting it up? Or the price they were selling it for?”

“No, and not that I can recall. Why?”

“Because when Bruce Wayne’s on your side it’s very hard to be outbid.” That didn’t explain the question about them asking Tim first, but nothing in the way Babs sat made him want to repeat the question.

“Quite right, a pity that I’ve never managed to snag a date with him.” The woman from the other end of the balcony had moved up next to them. “Oh! My apologies, yours was just the most interesting conversation I’ve heard all night, and I just _had_ to cut in. I’m Selina Kyle, and you two must be Barbara Gordon and Timothy Drake. Nice to meet you.” She gave Tim a gentle smile as she shook his hand. “I would make an offer for you myself, but if Brucie’s on the job then why bother?” Babs gave her a small half-smile with her handshake.

“That’s… philanthropic of you.”

“Oh, not at all. I’m merely not a fan of bullies, no matter how rich, famous, or related to their victims they may be. That being said, I just noticed how I bullied my way into this conversation, so I’m off to make thinly veiled pointed comments to Janet Drake and see how well she fights back.” Selina started to rummage around in her handbag. “Do help yourself to some of my supply of these caramel nut bars, normally I have to fight Brucie’s youngest over them and I accidentally overstocked before I realised he wasn’t here.” And with that she was gone, leaving them alone on the balcony, Babs with a lapful of caramel nut bars and Tim with a lipstick kiss on his cheek.

“So that was Catwoman out of costume. She seems… forceful. We should probably avoid that fight between her and my mother, the collateral promises to be enormous.” Babs nodded thoughtfully while chewing one of the bars.

“Check your pockets.” Tim did so, and found that nothing was missing. “Why’d your parents come back to Gotham? They clearly have a goal.”

“Securing a contract for Drake Medical, DI’s medicine division, to mass-produce Scarecrow fear toxin and Joker venom antidotes. It’s probably too late for WE to enter the running, but just in case, please don’t go messing with their chances because of what happened tonight. DM is one of the big money-earners for DI, despite, its shaky market position, and if they lose it then we lose my ability to sneak out with ease when no-one’s home because they won’t have the funding for their digs. Also, for all that they aim to profit off it, they will honour the contract, and that’ll help save lives.” Babs sighed and nodded, though for some reason the bit about sneaking out what he had to say had made her look… angry? Surely his parent’s lack of attention was advantageous to his crime-fighting career?

* * *

 

“That bitch, does she pay _any_ attention to Tim’s report card _at all_! Any kid who gets those sort of grades while fighting crime can have as many hobbies as he wants!” Bruce nodded, Barbara made a good point, she herself had only achieved at that level because of her eidetic memory. Alfred glanced back from his position behind the wheel.

“To be fair, Miss Gordon, Mrs Drake doesn’t know about the crime-fighting.”

“Yes, but Tim was getting _perfect grades_ when photography and stalking were his hobbies, as in not dropping a _single_ mark level perfect! A few extra hours a week spent not studying can’t have _that_ much of an impact, not on a fellow possessor of an eidetic memory!” That was news to Bruce, but explained some of the detective skills, as well as Tim remembering a performance he saw once when he was three. “It’s like she only sees him as someone who has to be a perfect heir, not as… not as Tim! I don’t know how he can be so loyal to her!” Bruce nodded and let Barbara keep ranting, not commenting that _‘It’s all he’s ever known, he thinks it’s normal for parents. Luckily, he has you to see him as Tim, though, doesn’t he?’_ He’d let her come to that conclusion in her own time.

* * *

 

A week after the fundraiser saw Tim waking up to find a note on the front door saying:

_“We managed to get the contract, and as a celebration, we’re going to a dig in Mexico. Mr Wayne will be sending his butler around at noon to pick up the photography equipment, please give him everything._

_Love,_

_Mother and Father.”_

Tim sighed and set off to make sure the house was Alfred-ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it good writing if you want to reach into your computer and strangle a character you yourself wrote? Even if it's not, don't expect many speaking roles from this version of Janet Drake, I'd probably break something while scripting them. On a more positive note, Selina! Where'd you come from? You were only supposed to cameo dancing with Bruce, but my irritation with Janet somehow got you dragged into a verbal cat-fight. Sorry about that. Oh well. I still can't decide who won. They probably both claim that they did. And yes, Selina DID paraphrase Captain America.


	12. How to play tag with an axe-murderer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up, this chapter includes a character with a fairly strong Geordie (Newcastle upon Tyne) accent. I'm pretty sure that all the slang words whose meanings can't be worked out from the context are insults, but just in case I've included a glossary in the end notes.

Tim glared at the small pile of crates Babs had sent him to investigate. “So, if we already know these contain smuggled goods, why do I have to check them out?”

 _“So we know exactly what these gangs are trying to smuggle. If its guns they’re probably gearing up for a war, drugs, to expand their business, you get the idea.”_ Tim nodded and pried one open, then slowly started to giggle at the contents. _“What, what did they bring in, is it dangerous? You’re laughing, so it can’t be that bad.”_

Tim regained control of himself. “Oh, they’re dangerous. So dangerous that the US government totally banned their import, for who could stand in the presence of…” He spun and held up one in his best impression of the Zelda ‘Item Get!’ pose. “…the KINDER EGG!!” A thump and muffled groan came over the line.

 _“Please tell me that’s a slang term for a drug that I’ve never heard before.”_ Tim turned back to the opened crate.

“Nope.” Just to make sure, he cracked open the egg and inner capsule. Several small pieces of a toy fell into the crate.

 _“Well that makes everything I did to track this feel like a waste of time. Is there a false bottom, or a layer of something else?”_ Tim had already begun to rummage around in the crate to check that out.

“Not that I can find, and all the crates are the same, so we seem to have an illegal candy ri- HEILIG SCHEIẞE!” Tim hurled himself sideways, just dodging the axe that passed through where he’d been standing.

“Hands off wor eggs, ya dirty Mackem!” The speaker’s voice sounded Scottish to Tim, though there was something off about that assessment that he couldn’t put his finger on. The speaker himself had every inch of his body covered by a suit of armour that strongly resembled boiled sweets, and seemed too hard for Tim to break. The axe was patterned to look like a lollipop. “Yer one o’ that Batman’s bairns, en’t ya! I en’t lettin’ ya gan hyem ta daddy ta blab all aboot me!”

“O, I don’t think I can handle this guy alone.” Tim whispered so that only his comm could hear it.

 _“I’ll get B, N and R en route, BB, just try to hold out.”_ Tim didn’t have much faith in their ability to arrive in time, they were all working on cases the other side of the city. But it was nice of Babs to make the effort. Tim turned and ran for his life and the opportunity to come up with a plan. Mainly his life.

“O, do you have any data on Mr Candyman? Ooh, emergency exit, how handy.” Tim tossed himself through the door, ending up in a wide open yard with a few stacks of metal beams. Minimal chance for an ambush, maximum space to evade, just what the Batgirl ordered. His pursuer’s armour clearly wasn’t built for speed, giving Tim a chance to flick out his escrima.

 _“Nothing yet, based on the accent I’m hacking Scotland Yard as we speak. Try aiming for the joints, they’re hard to reinforce.”_ Tim mentally flashed through his utility belt inventory for useful tools. Bomberangs could break the armour, but also the man beneath if it wasn’t as strong as it looked. He had a few bits and pieces with Taser-style surprises that might work on uninsulated armour… His left escrima got swapped out for a very oversized batarang.

The door burst off its hinges as the Candyman burst through. “There’s the Mackem! What, you got bored of runnin’?!” Tim smiled.

“Something like that.” If this chase got near civilians who knew what would happen. “You wouldn’t happen to have a name? It makes the paperwork _much_ easier.” And Bab’s search for a known weakness.

“Ha! As if I’d tell the first doilum ta ask the question!” Ok, that made it time to start chucking things and hope they worked. Speaking of chucking…

The batarang cut through the air, hitting Candyman dead on the chest without an attempt to dodge. “You seriously thought that’d-” The internal Taser discharged at the same time as the knockout gas supply. Tim momentarily lost sight of Candyman in the cloud, but was able to keep track of his position by the laughter, which… wasn’t a good sign. “I know you ivry one of you southern divvies look down on us Geordies-” They do? This was news to Tim. As was Gotham being considered southern. Candyman seemed to be a little delusional. God forbid they had a _sane_ criminal in Gotham. “-but credit us with the intelligence ta have insulated armour and a gas mask!” Oh well, back to plan ‘Dodge Dodge Revolution’.

Candyman threw himself at Tim, swinging his axe with both hands to chop off his head. Tim backflipped away, then dashed forward and jabbed an escrima into Candyman’s inner elbow to no effect. An armoured right arm would have clubbed Tim in the side of the head had he not ducked down and lashed out at the back of Candyman’s knees with his other escrima, knocking him off balance. A kick to the ankles finished the process of toppling the man and let Tim scramble away to a safer distance.

“Black Bat: two, Scotsman: zero!”

 _“N is 7 minutes out, B and R 9. Keep your distance, and fight to escape.”_ Like Tim already had been, though there didn’t seem to be any good security camera angles on the yard.

“The fuck did you just call me!” The Candyman had struggled to his feet and hurled himself at Tim, trying to bash his head in with the flat of the axe. “I ain’t a Scot!” A jab with the axe head narrowly glided past Tim’s spleen. “I’m a Geordie!” Tim rolled around behind the Candyman to avoid a violent spinning swing and got tangled up in his cape. “I was born an raised in Newcastle!” The axe rose high into the air and there was no way Tim could get out of the way in time with his cape wrapped around him like it was.

“Then you should have stayed there. God only knows we have enough axe murders in Gotham without importing extra from overseas.” A line of black wrapped around Candyman’s neck and pulled him over backwards again, revealing… Catwoman and Harley Quinn?!

Harley tapped her hammer on her shoulder. “I’d stay down if I was either of you two, sugahs. You’re interrupting Girl’s Night. ‘Specially you, Mr Stealing-Mistah-J’s-candy-gimmicks.” The Joker had tons of gimmicks, he could afford to lose a few. But staying down and avoiding a fight with two A-list Rogues at once (Maybe three if Ivy was involved in Girl’s Night.) sounded like a good idea.

“Harley, I never agreed to Girl’s Night, you just started following me, remember?” Tim slowly untangled himself from his cape, in case he had to run.

“Yeah, but Mistah J’s bein’ so _boring_ at the minute, he just keeps muttering about these German children eggs and how the expense had better be worth it. I wanted advice from you on spicing up our love life again.” Huh, so the Joker was behind the smuggling, and apparently was gearing up again after his last narrow escape from Batman. The Candyman was probably a new henchman that he forgot to mention to Harley. Either that or he’d forgotten that Harley existed again. Two chances.

“Seriously, Harley? You know my advice is the same every time- _look out_!” Harley shot Catwoman a look of confusion that vanished when she was kicked clear of Candyman’s axe swing.

“Stay down?! _Stay down?!_ I ain’t gonna let worsel’ get beaten up by a pair o’ wimmen like that! I’ll shred alla youse!” Tim jumped to his feet and sprinted around to be nearer to Catwoman than the other two.

“Do you mind if I fight with you? Enemy of my enemy and all that.”

“Fightin’ next ta a Bat? Mistah J would have kittens!” Tim winced. The only way he could win a three-way fight was surviving long enough for reinforcements, which didn’t look all that likely.

“Then think of it as fighting alongside a fellow Gothamite to repel an unwelcome invader.” Thank you, Catwoman! Tim actually started to feel sorry for Candyman.

“Ok, but I don’t like it. If you get my way when I attack, be prepared to be collateral, Batboy!” Now was not the time for corrections, and Tim suspected it wouldn’t change what she called him anyway.

Catwoman flicked her whip out at Candyman’s ankle, only to get it pinned beneath his axe, which he was then forced to abandon in order to dodge Harley’s hammer. Tim dashed forward and slapped a bomberang onto the handle, then threw himself clear, smirking as the blast rendered the weapon unusable.

“You fucker! That was my best axe!” The Candyman charged at Tim, completely ignoring Harley and Catwoman. His flailing punches were easy to dodge, letting Tim steer them until he felt one of the stacks of metal beams behind his back. One of the special backflips he learned from Dick was enough to get Tim atop the stack and out of the reach of the Candyman in his heavy armour without his weapon. “Get down here an fight like a man, cowardly Mackem!”

“One, I’m not a man, I’m a boy. Two, I have no idea what a ‘Mackem’ is. Three, thank you for focusing on me and ignoring the real threat.”

“The what?” Harley’s hammer connected with the side of Candyman’s head, breaking the helmet and revealing his mouth, staggering him but not doing anything to knock him out. Wait a second, his mouth!

“Harley, get clear for a minute! I can knock him out if you do!” She spun and glared at him.

“One chance, then we do this our way.” Catwoman stepped in before Harley could speak and dragged her back. Tim gave her a grateful smile, then tossed his other Taser-and-gas batarang. This time, instead of laughter, the only sound from the gas cloud was a loud crash as Candyman hit the ground.

“Nice one, Mr Rooftop Trap-setter. I did think it a little odd when I woke up that the Batman had abandoned his usual tactics.” Oh, crap, she worked it out.

“Uh, sorry?”

“Oh, don’t be, it was my fault for getting complacent, and I got away without revealing my secret identity. No harm, no foul. Though if you do it again, I won’t be anywhere near as forgiving, if not actually violent. I’m not a big fan of beating up children, hence why we got dragged into this.”

“You may not be, but I am. If I go home having beaten up a foreign psycho _and_ one of Batsy’s kids, Mistah J will _have_ to give me something.” Tim took a step back.

_“Just hold in there if she does attack, three minutes to backup.”_

“I hate to break it to you, but you don’t have time for that. One minute and all the Bats will be here to save me from-” Tim nodded his head towards Candyman. “-him. But they’ll be happy to settle for you.”

Catwoman grabbed Harley by the shoulder. “We’ll be off then, _won’t we?_ Nice costume, by the way, much stealthier than the flying traffic light. I assume you have a better name than Mini-Bat?” She dragged Harley off without waiting for an answer.

“It’s Black Bat!” Tim watched them leave, Catwoman giving him a wave, Harley the finger, as he bound the Candyman’s arms and feet.

“You can step them down from emergency status, O, Axe-guy is down and the other two have left.”

 _“Got it.”_ There was a brief pause _“B and R have redirected to track Harley in the hopes of finding Joker’s hide out, N is close enough that he’ll check up on you then continue patrol as normal.”_ A pair of arms grabbed Tim in a hug.

“I just found that second bit out for myself. Hey Nightwing. ”

“Good going Babybat! I got a bit of a commentary from Babs, congratulations on your first begrudging ‘enemy of my enemy’ team-up! You even got away without the sudden but inevitable betrayal!” The hug turned into a hair-ruffle. “Any injuries I need to know about?”

“Well, I think he nicked my uniform with one of the early strikes, but actually, no, plan ‘Dodge Dodge Revolution’ was a success.” Dick burst out laughing.

“You’re definitely fine. O’s called the police, want to join me on my patrol?” Tim gave it a little thought.

“No, I think I’ll go join Oracle, help her track down some actually dangerous smuggled goods.”

_“Hey!”_

“Sounds good, see you later!” Dick grappled off, while Tim walked out of the yard in the opposite direction. A hand came from nowhere and slapped a sweet-smelling cloth over his face.

“Wasn’t that nice. You and that pair, utterly foiling my plans. That armour is too heavy for me to carry away, but you’ll do as both a change of plans and an object lesson.” Maniacal laughter followed Tim into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Wor: Our, but can also mean My  
> Mackem: Inhabitant of Sunderland, a nearby city. Can be used as an insult due to traditional Newcastle-Sunderland rivalry.  
> Bairn: Child  
> Gan: go  
> Hyem: home. The 'h' is silent.  
> Doilum: Idiot  
> Southern: Not actually slang, but to a true Geordie anyone who lives south of the river Tyne is a southerner.  
> Divvy: Also means idiot, I'm pretty sure it's less insulting than Doilum though.  
> Worsel': Ourselves/Myself.  
> And as an extra bonus:  
> Heilig Sheiẞe: Literal translation into german of of Holy Shit. Almost certainly not how a real German would swear.
> 
> Actual End Notes:  
> Why a Geordie? Well, I wanted them to be English, because an American Candy-themed villain would be less likely to work with Kinder eggs, and they were an easy way to get Tim to the right place at the right time. Then I wanted them to have a distinctive accent, which left me with Geordie, Scottish and Cockney as accents I could replicate with some ease. Geordie was the one of the three I have most experience with, so there you go. If you absolutely hated it, don't worry, he won't reappear. If you really liked it, I'm sorry but he won't reappear.  
> Now, who could be a maniacal laughing person who would kidnap one of Batman's sidekicks?


	13. How to have the worst possible first encounter with Batman's archenemy.

Jason wondered why the hell B was putting so much effort into following Harley Quinn across the rooftops personally. She wasn’t exactly being stealthy, what with her constant complaining to Catwoman (Who was getting more and more irritated every second.) about ‘not getting to smash the new Bat’. Heck, Babs had over a thousand cameras all over Gotham for this very purpose. Sure, Tim had turned up a load of blind spots, but they’d still have a far better idea where Joker was hiding.

_“Bruce, Dick, Jason, have any of you seen Tim? He should have gotten back by now, and I can’t locate him on any of my cameras.”_ Well, Tim knew how to bypass the cameras, but why would he?

“He probably fell back on one of his routes from his photography days out of habit. Try his tracker.” Not a bad explanation, B but…

“Wouldn’t that have been more likely in his early days as Black Bat?” B gave Jason Batglare #3 in response, the ‘Not Necessarily’ glare. Jason hated that glare, B never explained _why_ the previous statement could be false.

_“No response from the tracker.”_ Which Tim could _also_ bypass, but there was no real motive to do so. Which meant…

“Shit, do you want me to go and look for him?” Because going dark without telling anyone in Gotham, city of a thousand and one criminal attacks…

_“I’ll go too. Sorry for being late to the conversation, had to stop a mugging.”_ There, he was doing what Dickie-bird would, there was no way B would say…

“No, finding Joker takes priority. Black Bat is trained enough to take care of himself, and the tracker probably got shut down in the fight.” What.

“B, he’s _twelve._ You barely let me patrol alone and I’m _fourteen_ and far more experienced.” Batman didn’t say anything, just turned back to following Harley. He stopped when he realised Jason wasn’t moving. “If I find out this is you being petty about Tim deciding to temporarily team up with your arch-nemesis’s lover, _in a situation_ that _weighted against him_ , I _will_ quit. Have fun with your little clown-hunt.”

Batman held up his hands placating. Jason wasn’t remotely placated. “Ro- Jason, this isn’t about that, it’s about the threat the Joker represents and this golden opportunity to nip his plot in the bud.” Jason snorted and folded his arms.

“Just because you find the hideout doesn’t mean Joker’ll be home. For all you know he could have snatched Tim, and that’s why the tracker isn’t responding. Before Batman could spout off more platitudes Jason grappled to the building on the other side of the street. “Where should I start, Babs?”

* * *

 

Tim awoke to the sensation of blood rushing to his head and a gag in his mouth. He opened his eyes and stared at the sofa that was sat on the ceiling of an upside-down apartment. No, it was stood on the floor, and he was hanging by his ankles from a rope attached to the ceiling, like a piñata. Huh, that was odd, Tim was certain this should all be scarier. Probably the lingering effects of whatever he was tranquilised with.

“Well, _hello._ It’s so _nice_ to have you back with us, Batsy-boy!” Tim found himself being spun to face the-… fuck.

The Joker smiled the widest grin Tim had ever seen in person.  Given what had happened to Jason’s mother, he was beginning to regret his earlier Piñata thought. “I _do_ hope you didn’t find the… method… of my invitation too rude, I simply _hate_ when people can’t make it to my cheer-up parties, so I tend to free their schedules myself.” Tim would quite like that tranquiliser effect to stop ebbing away, he was pretty certain it was the only thing between him and a panic attack.

“Now, I bet you’re wondering: _‘But Mister J, you always seem so happy, why do you need a cheer-up party’_ ” Not really, more _‘How long till Batman, Dick and Jason get here’_ , though he had noticed the odd term. “Well, let me tell you about my year.” Hopefully this wouldn’t involve slideshows of holiday photographs, those were supposed to be cruel and unusual punishment even by the standards of madmen.

“First off, stupid little Sheila Haywood tried to tell me who Batman and Robin are. I don’t care! The whole point of this game is beating Batman, not some stupid rich guy with an extensive cave system under his mansion! I had to get her out of the way so she couldn’t tell anyone who wouldn’t understand that and target him anyway.” Oh fuck, Joker knew who Batman was. Even if he didn’t care _now_ , he had a tendency to be very changeable. This couldn’t end well

“About a week after that _Superman_ of all people tried to catch me. Superman! Batsy and I don’t interfere with his feud with Mr Baldy Moneybags, why should he interfere with our fight? I was only trying to kill the UN! I had to blow up a helicopter to escape!” Tim was very glad his gag held back his comments about how Batman interfered with Luthor all the time. “Then I had to spend _months_ on the run like some sort of common public enemy!” Because you were (and are) one.

Joker shook his head sadly. “I finally managed to get back to Gotham, and heard a speech by those stupid Drakes that they were going to mass-produce an antidote to my precious venom, to _‘make Gotham safe for the children’._ ” Of course. When hadn’t his parent’s business decisions pissed the wrong people off? “Pah! That’s why I went all the way to Britain for a specialist in weaponising candy and the chocolate eggs he thought would do what I wanted best, only for _you and that cat-harlot to trick_ my _Harley into helping you take him out!_ ” Actually, that had been mainly Catwoman. Yeah, the gag was stopping Tim from annoying Joker further into a murderous rage. Not that Joker’s calm was particularly non-murderous. “I had my targets planned and everything. By this weekend there would be half as many living children in Gotham, and I’d personally ensure the Drake’s boy would be among the dead half!” So either way Tim was a target? Thanks Mom, Dad. “You are very easy to vent to, did you know that? Probably because you never respond. Now, I hate to be a bad host, but you woke up earlier than I expected. Be right back!”

* * *

 

_"I am afraid he’s not at his house either, Miss Gordon.”_

“It was a long shot anyway, thanks Alfred.” Babs hung up and flicked her comm onto transmit. “Agent A says no go, keep up the search.” Jason’s impressive blue streak matched Bab’s thoughts exactly.

_“This would be so much easier if we had more people on it.”_ Dick was right, but there were so few people in Gotham they could trust…

“I’m giving it at most an hour before my concern for Tim overrides my respect for Bruce’s rules and I call in Superman.”

_“What about that Spoiler chick? She knows Gotham and isn’t a metahuman, and she’s helped us out before. I’m gonna ask her if I come across her anyway, but it might be an idea to search her out deliberately. B’s gonna object, but she’s the least objectionable option currently.”_ Babs nodded in agreement.

“She may even have heard a rumour no-one would tell a Bat. Good thinking, Jay, I’ll locate her. You good to make contact?”

_“Hell yes!”_

* * *

 

Tim’s eyes widened as Joker wheeled in a tea trolley covered in various nasty-looking implements. “I know it’s not generally accepted to torture on the first date, but this is more of a one-night-stand sort of deal, isn’t it? And almost every item on here has been used in one of my landmark crimes! Now, where should we start…?” Joker turned to the trolley.

“Joker venom? It is my trademark. Nah, too fast, and I can’t be bothered working out concentrations to slow it down. Also, it’s a needle I’ve used before, and if you survive, well, HIV just isn’t funny in the same way as dying with a smile. The gun that shot the Commissioner’s daughter? Better, but could be too fast again. Oh, I know!” Joker bent down and grabbed something from underneath the trolley, before kicking the trolley away towards the wall. “It’s not the same one as the one I used to kill that annoying woman who tried to ruin my fun with Batman and Robin, but you can never go wrong with a crowbar. Would you like me to start anywhere in particular? Feet? Arms? Head? What’s that? No comment? Alrighty then, all over it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Bruce sounds a bit OOC brushing off everyone's concerns, remember that this while AU's Ethiopia did end in tragedy, it was a very different kind of tragedy, and not a very good lesson about the squishy-ness of child sidekicks. Also, in the next few chapters he does explain his reasoning. But will he end up doing it over Tim's grave?


	14. How to resemble your Robin's mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, this chapter contains minor description of the aftermath of somebody being beaten by a crowbar, so might be potentially triggering.

Steph scowled into the mirror on her dresser as she pulled on her Spoiler hoodie. Her mother had _never_ kept the promises she made in her various ‘Now your father’s in prison we don’t need him anymore’ speeches, why would making the speech a few weeks later than it normally turned up change anything? And was it really worth making herself late for her shift and Steph late for attacking criminals?

Steph’s window shot open of its own accord. She scrambled to grab her half brick and its socks from above her wardrobe, before she realised the person climbing in the window was Robin.

“Oh thank fuck, you’re home! We need another person on the streets. Black- OW!” Not that being Robin excused him, it just lowered the danger level of her attack.

“Don’t just waltz into people’s rooms! What if I’d been naked?! What if my mom wasn’t on night shift?! You’re lucky I threw the socks at you, not the brick! Knock next time!” Seriously, did Batman even teach his Robins manners?

“Sorry, normally when I enter through a window it’s for a bust, not to beg for help. Black Bat went missing about an hour ago, and we’re pretty sure he didn’t choose to. B is being a fucking dickhead and thinks locating Joker is more important, so it’s just me, Nightwing and our resident expert camera hacker looking for him right now.” Only pretty sure? Sure, Black Bat’s costume had been more stealth-leaning than Robin’s, but that implied he could hide from his fellow Bats…

“Where do you want me to start?” Because Steph knew about the survival rates for missing young people in Gotham. The more people on the search, the better, even if they were related to one of Batman’s not-so-arch enemies. Robin’s expression was hard to read through the mask, but she thought it was relief. He rummaged around where his back was hidden by his cape, and pulled out a black top that hung oddly and a small earpiece.

“I managed to raid one of Batgirl’s old equipment stashes on the way here. Put on the body armour under your hoodie and the comm in your ear. I’ll wait on your fire escape.” The two bits of equipment were probably lousy with trackers, but they were also miles ahead of anything Steph had access to. She slipped the comm into her ear and pulled her hoodie off again.

_“Can you hear me, Spoiler?”_ Steph screamed and spun to face… an empty room. She could have _sworn_ a female robot just whispered in her ear. _“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you with the voice changer. My name is Oracle, though everyone seems to call me ‘O’, and I’m the Bat’s ‘resident expert camera hacker’.”_ Oh, the _comm._ That was going to take some getting used to. Now, how did she respond…? She reached up and touched the earpiece.

“Nice to meet you?” She resumed getting dressed in the armour, in case that was some part of the system.

_“And you, though the circumstances could be better.”_ No kidding. _“I have a theory that Black Bat’s disappearance was due to an associate of a costumed criminal he helped take down not long before he vanished. Have you had any encounters with a man, six foot tall, with ginger hair and a distinctive accent- it was Geordie, and would sound kinda like a mix of English and Scottish accents? He may have been wearing a suit of armour that looked like it was made of boiled sweets.”_  Not exactly the sort of man who could blend in to Gotham easily then.

“Not personally, but I heard a few prostitutes I know giggling over a client that matched that description. The strange accent, not the armour. They generally gather around the foot of my apartment building.” Steph took a moment to appreciate how the armour fit really well under her Spoiler hoodie without interfering with the mask.

_“Gotcha, Robin?”_ Wait, Robin could hear this?

_“On it!”_ He could.

“Just out of curiosity, how many people does this comm transmit to?”

_“You’re wearing an older model that can only access the general channel, so everyone with a bat-comm on and in their ear. That is to say, me, Robin, Nightwing and Batman.”_ So private conversations were a no-go, good to know.

_“Found an address, O. Should Spoiler come with me to check it out? We’ll split up there if it’s a false lead.”_

_“Sounds good to me. Spoiler, you okay with that?”_ Wait, they wanted to know her opinion?

“Uh… Sure, sounds like a plan, I’ll be right down.”

* * *

 

Batman frowned down from his rooftop at the clown sauntering down the street. Harley Quinn and Catwoman had split up a while ago, but the former woman hadn’t become any stealthier without anyone to complain to, and still showed no inclination to return to her and Joker’s mutual safehouse.

Despite how uncaring his comments had probably seemed to Jason (And he was going to get it in the neck from Alfred, Barbara and Dick for that, wasn’t he?) Bruce was worried by how long Tim had gone without contacting them.  (Though clearly not as worried as the people who had breached his ban and contacted Spoiler.) That being said, every time he had lost contact with a Robin under similar circumstances they had used their skills to escape okay. Still… Harley turned into an alley, and Bruce decided to end this quickly.

It was almost embarrassingly easy to take her down. She had been by no means prepared for him to drop down behind her and slam her into the wall.

“Where is the Joker?!”

“I don’t know! Really! Mistah J told me to get as much attention as I could tonight ta draw you off while he does what he needs to, an’ in return he’d find me an’ show me our new home! I hafta give ya kudos for waitin’, though, I’da thought the prospect of another Girls Night woulda had ya down on our heads like a fallin’ building.” Damn it! He was so keen to find Joker he fell for Joker’s misdirection! Given Joker’s past efficiency when doing things he didn’t want to end up fighting Batman over he was probably already done! Bruce smacked Harley’s head against the wall to knock her out, then bound her.

Batman paused for a moment, activating the Batmobile’s auto-homing, before setting his comm to the public channel. “O, N, R. Harley turned out to be a dead end. I’m joining the search for Black Bat, I’ll rendezvous with Robin and Spoiler at their investigation site with the Batmobile.” He paused again, before adding “Oh, and Spoiler? Nice to work on the same side as a member of your family.” Not that that meant she’d get any measure of trust from him.

* * *

 

Jason growled at Bruce’s announcement as he climbed off the R-cycle. “Would an ‘Oh, and Robin? You were right.’ have been too much to add?”

“Probably, I mean I don’t even get trusted at a potential crime scene with his sidekick without extra supervision.” Spoiler had a point. “Which apartment was it they mentioned?”  Jason glared at the tower block.

“The penthouse. You don’t have a grapple gun, so we’ll take the elevator.”

“How’d you even get this address, no successful Gotham prostitute would go to a customer’s flat.”

“Would you believe he got a phone call in the afterglow and didn’t have the decency to take it somewhere a little more private?” Spoiler shrugged.

“People do treat them like objects.” The lobby was run down and slightly tacky underfoot, and the elevator walls were the same off-white as Arkham cells. An old lady shuffled onto it with them on the second floor. At first Jason thought she hadn’t noticed their uniforms, but then she leaned over to Steph and whispered “It’s amazing what kinks you can charge a young man extra for, isn’t it? ‘Course, in my day it was the first Green Lantern and the original Black Canary, but times change.” She then shuffled off again onto the fourth floor, leaving them both with cheeks that burned bright red. (Presumably, at least. Spoiler’s mask covered all of her face.)

“That was… something I will pay you good money not to mention to my mother.”

“Only if you don’t tell any of the Bats.”

“Deal.”

The short corridor leading to the penthouse was just as tacky as the lobby somehow, and the door was the lowest quality that Jason had seen outside of Crime Alley. A sickeningly familiar wet thud came from behind the door, followed by a cackle that was seared into the brains of anyone who had fought crime in Gotham. The door put up no resistance to Jason’s attack crashing to the floor to reveal- _blonde hair matted with red, a hand reaching for Jason entreatingly_ \- Tim tied to the fucking ceiling with the Joker preparing to hit him with his damn crowbar like a fucking piñata!

“Well, hello there Boy Blunder number two! Want to join the party? I’ve only gotten blood out so far but I’m sure there’s a candy centre in here-” Jason tackled the Joker, sending them both smashing into the sofa, the clown bearing the brunt of the impact. Despite that Joker recovered first, smashing a knee into Jason’s gut. “That was rude! Didn’t Batsy teach you-” A solid right hook from Jason cut him off. Before the Joker could recover, Jason punched him in the face. And then did it again. And again. And again and again and-

The sound of someone vomiting broke through the rage that had settled over Jason. Tim. And Spoiler. The two of them were more important than beating the motherfucking unconscious clown into the ground. He scuttled over to where Spoiler was bent over next to Tim and a fresh pile of her vomit. “Are you alright?”

She gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, just. Worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Help me get him down?” She nodded. Between the two of them they were able to cut the rope and carefully lower Tim’s broken body to lay on the floor. Jason looked him over, trying to avoid seeing- _a left arm twisted to an unnatural angle, a head partially caved in at the temple-_ what wasn’t there. While he was far better off than- _a rib poking out of her side –_ previous survivors of Joker attacks, Tim was still far beyond Alfred or Leslie’s abilities to treat using only the Batcave’s infirmary resources. They were gonna have to take him to hospital, which meant they had to wait for B and the… Fuck! He forgot to call off the search.

“We have Tim, I repeat, we have Tim! Motherfucking Joker was using him as a crowbar piñata! He needs immediate hospitalisation, his vitals are flagging! B get here now!” Jason heard muted swearing that he guessed came from Babs and Dick.

_“Understood, ETA one minute. Joker’s condition?”_ Gee, B, show a little concern, you’re supposed to be all about saving people.

“Spoiler is taking great pleasure in tying him up with the same rope and gag he used to bind Tim.” Oh fuck Jason just gave away Tim’s first name to Spoiler, didn’t he? Oh well, not like it wouldn’t have been all over the media tomorrow anyway. “I think I broke Joker’s jaw as well.”

_“Trust me, I’m already working out ways to infiltrate Arkham in a wheelchair to expand on that.”_ At least Babs could be relied on for vigilante-normal (if vengeful) reactions.

_“If you can’t, I’ll be happy to do it for you as your Robin.”_ And Dick to demonstrate how they remained best friends though their break-up.

_“Thanks. At least the broken jaw means nobody will find out he beat up Black Bat until after we’ve had a chance to cover Tim’s identity.”_ There was a definite quiver in Bab’s voice that Jason didn’t want to point out, mainly because if he did he’d hear its sister in his own.

“I’d suggest telling the hospital that Batman and Robin found him being beaten up by a gang of youths on the streets with crowbars. It’s the sort of crime that you have no chance of catching the perps for in Gotham if they had a chance to get away.” Spoiler sat down beside Tim and Jason and gave him a shaky smile as she removed her finger from the comm. “Just an idea. Listen, I know you almost certainly know this, but my name’s Stephanie Brown. You two can call me Steph.” If Tim ever recovered enough to speak. No, shut up, inner voice of pessimism!

Jason spent a short moment watching Tim’s ragged breathing, then reached a decision. “Batman’ll probably kill me for this, but to hell with it. My name’s Jason Todd. The kid’s Tim Drake.” Steph’s eyes widened.

“As in, _the_ Jason Todd?” Well, Jason could only think of one famous one.

“Yup.”

“Which means Batman and Nightwing are-”

“Yup”

“Thank you. I don’t know why you trust me, but thank you.”

“Why is you trust her a thing you’re talking about?” Jason and Steph started at the appearance of Bruce in the doorway.

“I offered to teach her the basics of vigilante crime-fighting.” Good thing he already had that excuse prepped. Bruce hummed and swept his gaze across the room. He didn’t actually blanch or curse when he saw Tim, but Jason knew by the way said gaze stayed on Tim for far longer than it needed too that B was startled by how badly off he was.

Bruce quickly strode over to Tim and checked his vitals, before clicking on his comm. “Robin, I need you remove as much evidence as possible that Black Bat was beaten here, take Spoiler home, then go home yourself. I’ll deliver Black Bat to hospital, using Spoiler’s excuse, and try my best to keep us posted. Oracle, I know you have a lot of things you want to do, but for tonight call the police here and to the sort of alleyway Spoiler’s plan requires, with a slight time delay. Nightwing, take some of Black Bat’s blood from the transfusion supplies we keep in our safe-houses and scatter a little in Oracle's chosen alley, then finish tonight’s patrols.” Steph nodded while Dick and Babs gave two variations on _‘Yes sir!’_ Jason wanted to swear, to call B out for not being here, for being distracted, but now was not the time. He nodded and produced the small bottles of chemicals that would make cleaning up blood easier and any remaining samples unanalysable from his utility belt and set to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see Bruce, this is why you listen to people telling you you're wrong. Now you have a family who aren't sure if they can trust you to save them. But on the plus side, the sidekick you failed to rescue personally is now having a nice chat with Death as they wait for him to go one way or the other. Not much of a plus side, is it?


	15. How to be a catalyst for serious conversations

** Drake heir hospitalised! Parents nowhere to be found! **

_By V. Vale_

Late last night Timothy Drake, son of Jack and Janet Drake of Drake Industries, was brought to Gotham Hospital in critical condition.

The exact circumstances behind the injuries are unknown, though Batman, who brought Tim to the hospital, claimed that he and Robin found the child being beaten up by a group of thugs near Crime Alley. No official statements have come from the hospital as to his condition, but an anonymous source claimed he had been stabilised.

More interesting, though, is the reactions of Jack and Janet Drake. Or rather, their lack of reaction. Despite the best efforts of the media, police, DI and hospital staff, nobody has yet found a point of contact who can say for definite where the Drakes are. The only person at the Drake’s house is the housekeeper, who is only contracted for a few hours work every day.

Where are the Drakes? Why was Tim in Crime Alley? And why was Tim left alone to the degree that he could sneak away to Crime Alley?

* * *

 

Jason looked up from the newspaper as Babs wheeled herself into the breakfast room and set herself opposite Bruce. Dick exchanged a look with Jason, and they both simultaneously moved their chairs closer to her and further from their father. Bruce watched them do it expressionlessly, then let out a sigh. “The three of you will be pleased to know that Tim’s in no immediate danger, though the doctors have no idea when or if he’ll awaken, thanks to a minor skull fracture. They’re holding off on an official report until they contact his parents, which will probably take a while.”

A small, bittersweet smile appeared on Babs’s face. “That’s… good, but it’s also not why we’re all here.” Bruce looked up from the section of the newspaper he’d pulled towards himself. “We need to talk about your actions last night. Tim was beaten to within an inch of his life and you refused to believe he was in any major danger until a few minutes before Jason and Spoiler found him, all thanks to a distraction.” Bruce shot her a glare.

“You can’t expect me to see through every bluff my enemies put before me, can you? And if I’d joined the search I’d have banned Spoiler from joining and we may not have got the tip-off that lead to finding him.”  It was Dick’s turn to glare.

“I remember a few talks similar to this just before I became Nightwing. Bruce, spinning your absence into a positive thing doesn’t negate our point. And you fell for this bluff _far_ too easily. Harley didn’t even have to go out of her way to get you following her like… like a puppy! Why did you chase her for so long?”

Bruce at least had the decency to look sheepish at being called out on his tactics. “I… well… I was worried about Tim like the rest of you, but I thought his years of stalking us and training from us would give him all the skills he needed, he just seems so much more… competent than you or Jason were at that degree of experience.” That was rude. True, but rude. “I was also thinking a little too much like a parent, not Batman. I thought helping me take down Joker and put him behind bars would give you, Jason, some closure about your mother’s death, like dealing with Tony Zucco did with your parents, Dick, and I let that take over my priorities.” Jason, Dick and Babs stared at Bruce, full confessions of his thought process were rare.

Jason recovered from the shock first. “Then you could have fucking mentioned it! If you had, I might have said something like _‘B, you go find my only friend in Gotham, cause you’re more experienced, while I track Harley cause she’s not trying to hide. I promise not to follow her anywhere that looks like a trap’_ ” The ‘only friend in Gotham’ line seemed to startle B. “As it stands, I don’t think I can ever trust you to the same degree.” And that left B looking fucking _desolate._

“Jason, I…”

“I mean, I see you had everyone’s best interests at heart, or at least what you saw as their best interests, so I’m gonna at least try to forgive you, though that won’t come easy nor cheap. Also because Tim became Black Bat to improve our relationship and I’ll be damned if I let him think his failure broke us apart. But every time I look at you there’s gonna be a little voice at the back of my head telling me _‘Accident or no, this man nearly chose one of you over the other’._ I think this is my Nightwing moment. I can’t be Robin anymore, but I’m… for lack of a better word, happy… to work alongside you. As an equal partner.” All three of the others sat at the table were staring at Jason. A hand settled on his shoulder, and Jason looked up to find Alfred giving him a small smile.

“Well said, Master Jason.” Jason gave Alfred a small smile of his own.

“I agree with Little Wing, but I’ve already had my Nightwing moment, so I’ll just have to settle to working less closely with you for a while. Bludhaven could do with some cleaning up…” Jason and Dick turned to Babs.

“Don’t think this conversation is over between the two of us, or any of us, Bruce. Tim may not be related to me like Jason is to you, but he’s very important to me nevertheless. What you did wasn’t totally wrong, it just was far from right. I’m not going to do anything stupid like cut you off from my services, but I’m not going to magically go back to the way things were either. Jason, if you don’t have an identity prepared to move on to, may I suggest going out as Black Bat? It’ll maintain Tim’s identity, and enable you to go out without forcing yourself back into the Robin suit.” Jason nodded his thanks. Quitting had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, and he hadn’t had a next step planned.

Bruce looked totally and utterly stunned. “Everyone, I… Thank you.” Jason snorted.

“Don’t thank us for making an attempt to forgive you, prove you deserve it, make sure this doesn’t happen again, especially with the new Robin you’ll end up getting. What, why are you looking at me like that? I said I was quitting Robin, not retiring the role!” Dick shook his head.

“It’s just… you’ve just seen your ‘only friend in Gotham’ nearly beaten to death and you want to drag another person into this life?”

“Actually, I’d vote for Spoiler, since she already dragged herself into it and has seen the potential consequences. And as for why, well, Batman needing a Robin was at the centre of why Tim became Black Bat, remember? He’s been at least mostly correct with all his deductions and inductions so far. But I can’t force you to do anything, B.” He flashed his Robin smile in B’s direction.

“We shall see” was B’s growled response. “Now, about protecting Tim’s identity…” The sudden and entirely non-subtle subject change earned B three low-level glares and a sniff of disapproval, though they _were_ going to have to discuss this at some point. “It turns out that Jason only bruised Joker’s jaw, so he should be able to talk quite soon.”

“It would always be possible to finish the job of breaking it.” Jason spun to stare at Alfred, who raised an eyebrow, as if daring them to comment on his out-of-character suggestion. “It was merely a suggestion. Whilst violence has never been my first recourse, given what I have heard from your encounters with him it is one of the few methods that can actually shut him up. I shall be pruning the garden should anyone need me.” Without waiting for a response, Alfred bustled out. Jason turned to give Dick a questioning look, as he had a large smile on his face.

“Alfie’s protective streak is very strong, you should have heard what he said about Dent that time I nearly died. The plants’ll probably get a very close shave. Though his idea would work, and Babs and I already had plans in that area…” Bruce shook his head.

“I’m not saying you can’t, but can it wait until he breaks out again? Just randomly beating him up in Arkham will damage our reputation.” Babs and Dick exchanged a meaningful look, then turned back to Bruce.

“Alright, but you don’t interfere when we do. I’m assuming you have an alternative?” A smirk Jason was more used to seeing under the cowl appeared on Bruce’s face.

“We can’t deny that Black Bat and Tim were beaten up on the same day in similar ways. We _can_ deny that they were beaten up to the same degree. Jason, I know you literally just quit, but can I get you to keep wearing Robin for at least a week and a half before borrowing Black Bat? To simulate him recovering from a beating his body armour mostly absorbed?” Jason swore under his breath, but he couldn’t prove what Bruce just said wrong.

“Ok, and to keep up the ruse I’ll wear Robin on a few high-profile jobs after I borrow Black Bat, to act like there are two of us and people only see one at a time, but I work independently in both costumes.” Bruce inclined his head.

“I wouldn’t ask anything more.”

* * *

 

“Any news that will actually be interesting?” Lex watched as Mercy flicked through pages on her tablet. This was the closest they got to a game, she’d read out the headline of a newspaper article she found ‘unusual’, he’d deduce the details of the article. He normally only lost on the second Tuesday of the month when she was allowed to use gossip magazines.

“‘Local woman gives birth to two-headed child’” Hmm, sounded like the sort of headline he’d have read in Smallville’s local paper, so…

“Mother and father shocked but swear to raise the baby as if it were normal, doctor either baffled or talking about the absorbance of twins in the womb, pastor or other religious figure calling it a miracle or an abomination, a few interviews with people from the street including one mother worried that her child will have to go to school with the double-headed one.”

“All correct. The doctor was baffled and the pastor considered it an abomination. Next. ‘Drake heir hospitalised! Parents nowhere to be found!’” What. Lex had always known Jack and Janet’s ‘parenting’ would someday reap its reward, but he’d always imagined it to include a nosy reporter and a neglect trial that he’d happily secretly fund.

“You win. Let me read that article, there are too many possibilities I’m thinking of.” The amount of thought he’d put into getting Timothy’s intellect on Lex’s side put him too close to the issue to see the most likely cause objectively. Had one of the Drakes finally graduated to physical abuse? Had some criminal worked out that their house was usually mostly empty, and been surprised by Timothy’s presence? Had the boy chosen to wander away from the empty house and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time?

The article itself wasn’t too helpful, it had the stink of money concealing information all over it. The first half- about Timothy and his condition- had probably been covered up by Bruce Wayne. He had a notable sympathy for child crime victims, and would probably want to shield Timothy from the worst of the media’s onslaught. The latter half was probably the result of the Drakes not wanting to be followed by the media to their precious archaeological digs. It would probably all be resolved when somebody in the police department had the sense to ask Drake Industries to contact their owner. And then the shit would start to hit the fan as people began to ask the right questions. Of course, Lex could provide an awful lot of shit for those people to throw at said fan. And he’d never been a fan of the way the Drakes raised the only child born to money he’d met to have more than reasonable intelligence by his standards. (Wayne and Queen’s sons would have also fallen into this category to varying degrees were they biologically their father’s children, but far less so than Timothy.)

Coming to a decision, Lex produced a memory stick from his desk and tossed it to his bodyguard/personal assistant/closest-thing-to-a-confidante. “There are two folders on that. The contents of the first are to go to the GCPD through our normal channels for guaranteeing an arrest, the second folder to a single Gotham-based journalist. Ensure the journalist has a good reputation for putting together stories from clues and telling them clearly.” She didn’t say anything, but Lex could tell Mercy wanted to ask what was in the folders. Well, she’d find out anyway soon enough, and would never tell anyone what he said… “They each individually contain enough evidence that, if presented in court by a decent lawyer, they could get the Drake’s parental rights terminated. Together, and with some of it in the hands of the public thanks to the media, preventing a DI hush-up, who can say how much damage they’ll do? Actually, add ‘willing to break up a family for the sake of a story’ to the list of target qualities. And set up monitoring on Timothy Drake. Given his near-total lack of parental affection, he could become quite the asset for Lexcorp if we present the right opportunities at the right time.” Mercy nodded, tucked the memory stick away, and took back the tablet.

“Twin sisters both press charges of attempted murder against the other.”

* * *

 

“…. Currently, it is uncertain if Timothy Drake will awaken from his coma.”

“That will be all.” Talia watched as the ninja bowed and vanished back into the ranks of their fellows, clearly glad her father had chosen not to kill the messenger on this occasion. Ra’s turned his head to face her. “Remind me daughter, I am certain I have heard the name Timothy Drake before all this discussion of the Detective’s newest and most injured apprentice.” It doesn’t take Talia a second to recall the information, when it comes to her Beloved’s city her information network is far better than her father’s and she insists on knowing as much as possible about the children her Damian will have to fight to be recognised as his father’s sole heir.

“One of our recruitment officers noted him in middle school as having potential while working as his gym teacher. You decided kidnapping a child of Beloved’s social class from his city would attract too much attention. I would recommend reversing that decision and using the Pit to get that potential on our side.” Her father turned his gaze back out across the room

“No, I stand by my initial decision. The risk far outweighs the reward, especially given how much of the Detective’s attention will be on the child. Were he to die of natural causes, I might advocate grave robbing, but until then, just keep him under surveillance. You may go.” Talia bowed and slipped out of the side door to make her way to her quarters and the guest she asked to meet her there. Really, didn’t her father _see_ the ease with which saving his partner’s life could be used to curry favour with Beloved? His loss. Saving Beloved’s partner tonight, a few favours as Damian grows, then by the time Beloved realises the superiority of the child she gave him, he’ll be begging her to marry him so he can get access to League of Shadows resources, thus solidifying her position in the notably misogynistic league hierarchy as the wife of one of her father’s heirs and mother of the other. Besides, the way things seemed to be going in what the ninja reported about the media, the child would be becoming either Damian’s adoptive brother soon, or his adoptive nephew whenever the first Robin and Batgirl pulled their heads from their behinds and acted on their continued mutual attraction.

“Mother.” Speaking of her son…

“Yes, Damian?” He was wearing his training uniform with an unusual amount of blood-splatters, so clearly he had mastered some new move and was excited enough to run off and find her straight away, though his father’s scowl didn’t show the emotion.

“I require a more skilled teacher, the previous one failed to keep up with my growth.” Well that was disappointing, she’d expected to get a few more weeks from that one. Luckily she had already found a replacement.

“Well done Damian! Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and as a special treat you can eat dinner with your mother? There will be a new teacher for you tomorrow. Oh, and make sure to tell the ninja to dispose of the body.” Damian’s face lit up while somehow retaining its scowl in a way that was so utterly inherited from his father.

“Thank you, Mother!” He turned and marched off just as fast as it was appropriate for Ra’s al Guhl’s heir to turn and leave. Talia smiled. Damian was growing up perfect. Now. Back to the issue of his soon-to-be-adoptive brother/nephew. Her father’s decree had left the Lazarus Pits unusable to restore him, but luckily the child wasn’t dead yet, which gave her many options, several of which were for hire. Even better, one of the potentially hireable options had already been called to her quarters to discuss a job she couldn’t entrust to the ninja, and an interest in Timothy Drake according to her spies. Talia swept into her meeting room.

“I’m sorry I was delayed, my father had some… interesting… news from America. I do hope you didn’t mind waiting.” The man’s mask rendered his expression unreadable, but he didn’t seem irritated.

“Not at all. Now, I understand you have a couple of jobs for me, including one off-the-books-one that requires a resource I may be… reluctant… to utilise.” She gave him the warmest smile she could muster, while making a mental note to find out who presumed her thoughts and told her guest, and have them thoroughly eviscerated.

“Of course, but I assure you that it will be well worth it.” Hopefully her spy’s report was correct, not that this was her only recourse…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And my obsession with showing what the general public knows of the Bat's actions by using Vicki Vale as a proxy shows no signs of abating.  
> I know that in canon the al Guhls, particularly Ra's, have an obsession with Tim that verges on peadophillic, but as that developed through him slowly showing his potential to equal or surpass Bruce as a fighter and strategist, I don't think it's too unreasonable for them to see him right now as merely a means to an end (Talia and, through her, Damian), or not worth being concerned with unless circumstances change in some way (The rest of them). This will obviously change with time. And until then Tim will get plenty of training in avoiding ninja-suitors from Lex Luthor's recruitment attempts.  
> I'm pretty sure I wrote the word Ninja more times in this chapter than in the rest of my life so far, which says... something?


	16. How to receive a number of interesting visitors

Bruce slipped in through the door of Tim’s hospital room, holding it open for the two people following him. Two days in hospital had left Tim looking unnaturally pale, and yet far more lifelike than he had at Joker’s apartment, as if he had merely decided to go to sleep in a nearly full-body cast and a respirator. “I know that you two expressed an interest in meeting him, and I’m just sorry it has to be under these circumstances.” Diana gave him a small smile as she slid in after Clark.

“Don’t be, meeting before a hospital bed is far better than before a grave.”

“Ah, you heard about that.” Clark gave a sheepish shrug.

“On the night it happened Barbara gave quite a rant in which she invoked my name several times. Eventually I had to turn up and ask the details. Don’t worry, Diana, Ma and Pa are the only people I’ve told.” Clark’s inability to lie to his parents was legendary, and Diana was known for her fair judgement, so Bruce couldn’t really complain, especially as none of them were big gossips.

“With hindsight, it was inevitable with how many people you’ve gathered under your banner that something like this would happen someday.” Both Bruce and Clark turned to Diana, who seemed to be trying to memorise Tim’s face behind the respirator. “You can’t change that it happened, though for the record? Potentially sacrificing a unit for the barest chance of taking a powerful enemy off the field for a while? Not the best battle strategy, too much chance and sacrifice. What matters now is how you stop it from happening again.”

Bruce let his self-depreciating smirk emerge. “I know, Jason was very emphatic about that, as well as his belief that I’ll take on a new Robin.”

Diana clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Then you would do well to listen to Jason. Just because he is young does not mean he cannot have the wisdom of experience on his side. Especially if he is distancing himself rather than test the effects his broken trust will have on the necessary closeness between Batman and Robin. Has he taken on a new identity?”

“Trust me, I’ve heard all the ‘Batman needs a Robin’ rhetoric I could want from Tim. For now, Jason will be using Tim’s Black Bat persona, until he finds one that fits.”

“Actually, I was saying Batman and Robin need to work together closely, like a sword and shield, but that doesn’t sound too unlikely either. Given a few minutes I could probably extend the analogy…”

“No, you don’t have to, really, I got shown the full crime figures by Tim already, I’ve seen the effects of me being without a Robin, and I just want to wait for a good candidate.”  As in no candidate would be good enough, not if this could happen to them on Bruce’s watch. Diana narrowed her eyes at him.

“Speaking of Tim…” Bruce turned to Clark, who had somewhat unusually been taking Bruce’s usual role as the quiet one in the conversation. “Where are his parents? I mean, if I was injured to this degree Ma and Pa would have to be surgically separated from my bedside.” Diana nodded.

“Queen Hippolyta would be the same were I in such a state, especially at such an age.” For all Bruce’s emotional control, he couldn’t stop the grimace from sliding onto his face.

“Ecuador. For another two days. Trust me, tomorrow’s papers will have a field day with it, especially with all that speculation floating around. I’m pretty certain that Vicki Vale has gotten her hands on a big scoop as well, she was unusually quiet this morning given that she’s been reporting Tim’s story on the front page for the past few days.” It was Clark’s turn to grimace, he had never been a fan of Vale’s approach to journalism.

“Hopefully it’ll be something negative for his… parents… and help you get him the family he deserves. Still, no matter what happens, he has a load of recovery to do.” Bruce’s grimace became a small, genuine smile.

“He’ll have Babs and Jason on his side, not to mention Dick, Alfred and myself. The only situation in which he could possibly be forced to recover in more than the time the doctors think it’ll take is if we all suddenly vanish and he forgets all about us.” Diana smirked.

“I can’t even begin to imagine the number of times Alfred will have to put on the handbrakes instead of letting the lot of you push him past his limits.” Bruce snorted.

“If it’s less than twenty you two both wear my symbol and colours for a league meeting, more than fifty and I wear one of yours to one meeting and the other’s to the next.”

“Make it ten for us, because you’ll be trying to keep the number low.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess. Alright.”

“Deal. Now shake on it.”

* * *

 

“Okay.” Dick muttered as the elevator doors closed. “Now that we’re alone and not running out the house at a thousand miles an hour, can you explain to me why we’re infiltrating the hospital at midnight with me in a nurse’s outfit and your leg in a fake cast? Preferably in a sentence that doesn’t involve the word ‘foreplay’ or any of its synonyms.” Barbara snorted.

“If I wanted to attempt to rekindle our relationship, it would be a far more romantic evening, trust me. Somebody hacked the hospital computers to locate Tim’s room, and given the high quality of the hack I doubt it was for the purposes of good. Unfortunately, visiting hours are long over and neither of us count as family, hence the sneaking in to stake it out.”

“Makes sense, but are you sure you’ll be okay if it… escalates?” Really, Dick? _That’s_ the first question you ask? Nothing about Tim’s safety in the same scenario, when he’s the _genuine_ invalid at the moment _._

“You do remember what happen the last time you insinuated that?” The way Dick stiffened told her he did, which was good, Barbara would rather not waste time staging a repeat beat-down.

 The doors slid open onto Tim’s floor, conveniently empty of all people. As she stealthily rolled along Barbara was very glad she oiled her wheelchair, making noise in this sort of environment was the downfall of many a person in horror movies, and while the Bats viewed them as comedies ranked only below police procedural dramas, those moves did contain some kernels of truth. She only hoped the trope about parents going to check on children didn’t apply to master-apprentice relationships. The door slid open, revealing Tim, the various machines he was hooked up to, and the ominous blue-and-orange clad figure standing over him with hypodermic needle in his hand.

“Fuck!” Her batarangs barely touched her hands as they went from their holsters to flying for Deathstroke’s wrist. Wilson caught both of them and used them to knock Dick’s volley of wing-dings from the air without dropping the needle.

“Now, now, no need to shout Miss ex-Batgirl. I’m not here to hurt your successor and a fight would risk that. Also it would be such a _scandal_ were Dick Grayson and his ex-girlfriend found sneaking into a hospital in disguise for unknown purposes. We should have this conversation privately.” Barbara wheeled herself in slowly, flicking out her escrima. Dick closed the door behind them, pulling more wing-dings from his scrubs.

“Why should I believe a man known as ‘the Terminator’ came here for altruistic purposes?” If he was here to complete his offer of ‘employing’ Tim, the so help her Superman… Deathstroke snorted.

“As if. I’m here for a job given to me direct by one Talia al Guhl, independent of her father.” That wasn’t good, Talia had never taken kindly to the idea that Bruce had children that weren’t hers as well, Barbara wouldn’t put it past her to try to trim the herd.

“Isn’t it against your code of hour to kill a defenceless child, Slade?” Though Dick made a good point, but what was Talia’s goal then?

“Kill? As if. I’m too interested in Timothy’s potential to kill him even if she offered me control of the League of Shadows. No, I’m here to save him.” What. Deathstroke put the needle on the end of Tim’s bed. “There should be sufficient residue left in the needle to confirm that I injected him with an incredibly dilute version of the treatment that gave me my regeneration. Should be enough to heal all those wounds, and if he’s lucky a little extra to put him just above his previous physical average, to make up for the lost few weeks of training due to recovery, without a permanent regeneration factor or any of the possible mental side-effects.” Again, what. This is definitely the total opposite of what Deathstroke’s known for.

“And why are you doing this?” Deathstroke shrugged.

“I was able to get Talia to pay through the nose, mainly. Also at least one part pre-existing minor emotional investment in Timothy’s career in the world of armoured tights, and a second part Talia’s endgame being both obvious and ludicrously unobtainable and I kinda want to see how she reacts when she realises that.”

“She wants to make Batman the heir of the demon in order to secure her place in the hierarchy.” Which was kind of understandable, given that being a high-ranking female in the League of Shadows was like dancing on the top of a very tall and unstable sandcastle no matter how well you proved yourself, but seeing another person as a walking talking meal ticket was not really the best reaction.

“Yup. Oh, almost forgot.” Two notes joined the needle on Tim’s bed. “The parchment’s a letter from Talia for her ‘Beloved’s’ eyes only, so every one of you will have read it by the end of the day, the lined A4’s my best guess at potentially dangerous physical side-effects for the serum. May I leave in peace, or do we have to have to compromise?” Barbara smiled.

“You have five minutes, then I tell Batman you were here.” She was pretty certain Deathstroke was smiling behind his mask.

“Now that’s my kind of compromise.” He opened the window and shot out.

Dick sank down into one of the room’s chairs. “Well this is a little bit of a clusterfuck.” The smile on Barbara’s face became a smirk.

“No kidding. That’s the third major villain I know of to take interest in Tim in a non-murderous manner.” First Ivy, then Deathstroke, now Talia…

“Do you think there’ll be any others?”

“Not a clue, but were should probably set up round-the-clock monitoring of this place by the more discrete members of our League, just in case.” Babs picked up and opened the list. Did premature greying hair _really_ belong at the top of a list of dangerous side effects like a temporarily increased risk of developing cancers? Dick giggled at the contents of Talia’s parchment, then stretched and got to his feet.

“Good idea. He gets this from you, just so you know.”

“From me? Who here is on first name terms with Deathstroke?” He at least had the decency to sheepishly rub the back of his head “Come on, we need to get these things back to somewhere we can analyse them, and work on the string-pulling we’ll have to do to get Tim assigned to Leslie exclusively before whatever chemicals have been shoved into him turn him into a temporary medical miracle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contained a number of characters I'm not as familiar with as I'd like, I hope they weren't too OOC.  
> The initial plan was for Tim to effect a slow and natural recovery from the beating, then he randomly mentioned the job offer from Slade out of nowhere back in chapter 10 and, well... *gestures helplessly at the above chapter to indicate how far the characters ran away with it.* Not that this surprise is in any way bad or majorly plot-altering, I just didn't see it coming.  
> If Diana's sword and shield analogy for Batman and Robin sounds a little odd, it was originally something along the lines of 'they must be highly compatible, like a sword and scabbard'. The my sister/beta pointed out how much it sounded like an anal sex analogy, not a teamwork one. Oops.


	17. How to effect a miraculous recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally four sentences in the second paragraph of the fourth section of this chapter describe somebody being beaten by a crowbar. Just as a potential trigger warning.

** The boy alone at the top of the hill! The true story of the Drake’s parenting! **

_By V. Vale_

The various reports on how Jack and Janet Drake could have allowed their son Timothy to have been beaten into a coma in a downtown alleyway have ranged from suspicious to fully in favour of the Drake’s parenting. Now, data released exclusively to us from an unknown hacker, all verified by our careful work, allows the _Gotham Gazette_ to formally tell you the truth of Timothy Drake’s history with his parents.

As best we can work out from the included medical records, Timothy was breastfed for one week before being weaned to the bottle. Nothing negative there, babies put up for adoption do it all the time. However, he was only bottle-fed by his mother for a further week before being handed off to a nurse so she could fly to Germany for a mixture of business and archaeological digs. His father had left the week before, and neither returned for four months. This pattern has continued for the rest of Timothy’s life, just him and an ever-decreasing number of impersonal servants in a mansion made for so many more people, waiting for his parents’ whirlwind visits.

Even more telling is the number of these caretakers released from service for being ‘too attached to their charge’. On the official documentation. Timothy had 18 caretakers of some description. Of these 15 were released for the above charge, with the remaining three having two counts of handing in their notice, while the last one is the current housekeeper, a Mrs Mac who is only contracted for a few hours work and to cook his evening meal. Many of his previous caretakers were contracted only for a similar level of work.

Growing up with this level of parental supervision, or supervision in general, is it any surprise that Timothy didn’t think he’d get into trouble seeing how the other half lived, and wandered somewhere dangerous?

_Interviews with several of Timothy Drake’s past caretakers can be found on pages 5-6._

* * *

 

Janet Drake snorted and set the paper down. Implying that handing Timothy over to professionals who understood his needs far better than she could ever hope to was in some way neglectful? Ridiculous. Had Vicki Vale never heard of wet nurses, or boarding schools? Everybody who had the money did it! Tim didn't mind, look at how he smiled in all three of their family photos! When everything turned out in their favour DI would sue the _Gazette_ for libel that was for sure.

* * *

 

Jack Drake let out a worried moan and gripped the paper harder, his eyes skimming the testimonials of Tim’s old nurses and housekeepers. Had they really been that distant? He remembered telling Tim they’d take him to the park… next time. Actually, he remembered a lot of ‘next time’s and very few cases of them actually doing it. But surely everybody with money did that? He looked up and caught sight of a picture of him and Janet at a gala in Japan, one of the many they left Tim at home to attend. In the background was Bruce Wayne… and both of his sons. Jack didn’t think this whole thing would turn out in their favour.

* * *

 

It had been years since Tim awoke without unconsciously assessing his surroundings, an instinct born of the fact that with no-one to take him to bed if he fell asleep away from it, he could wake up somewhere dangerous. (Like the time he fell asleep reading at the top of the stairs.) So when he opened his eyes and finds his left arm and both legs fully bound by casts his only reaction was _‘Oh, so that was what was binding them.’_  

The room he was in seemed to be fairly typical hospital fare, though Tim was in the only bed in the room, alone save for the pile of get-well-soon cards. And the bag of banana-flavoured candy. Tim sighed mentally. He would bet good money that when somebody put the two Flash-symbol cards in reach of his unbound right arm one of them would be from Flash’s rogues, who admittedly did know him as Tim Drake, though that didn’t excuse getting regular mail from your kidnappers. Even if they had been kidnapping him from his first set of kidnappers, bonded with him by discussing how they could do better at their chosen careers by mimicking a few tricks of the Gotham villains (Ten-year-old Tim had _no_ discretion.), introduced him to a wide variety of candy (Including the banana flavour they’d left in his room), and handed him over to Flash without a ransom demand as soon as they could. If Tim hadn’t known they were infrequently checking up on him out of distaste for his parents (Again, ten-year-old Tim had _no discretion_. He was lucky they’d never asked about Batman and Robin, and that he’d learned to predict their check-ups) he’d never have had a chance of keeping a secret identity.

The door slid open and a white haired woman strode in. “Oh good, you’re awake. Can you tell me your name?” Tim frowned at the question, but she was wearing a long white coat and an I.D. badge, so she was probably a doctor.

“Timothy Jackson Drake.”

“And your date of birth?” Tim barely blinks before rattling off the number, wondering why she’s going through all this rigmarole. Clearly they think he’s received a head injury, but whe- _“Now tell me, Batty Boy, did that forehand hurt more?” Pain blossomed across Tim’s back. “Or this backhand?” More pain, across the chest._

“…mothy, can you hear me?” Tim jerked his head around to face the doctor, who had come over to his side at some point. He nodded. “You took quite a beating, including a minor skull fracture. Are you in any pain?” Actually… he wasn’t, which really didn’t tally with what he remembered of- _“A, or B?”_ –the events before he passed out.

“No. I should be, shouldn’t I?” The doctor nodded.

“Under normal circumstances, yes. Fortunately, with you Bats, circumstances are rarely normal. Oh, don’t give me that look. As innocent, I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about looks go it’s top of the class, but I know that you do. Nice to meet you, I’m Leslie Thompkins.” Tim stopped coming up with a plan to skip the country now that his identity had been outed, though he filed away the bits he’d developed for expansion later.

“How exactly are circumstances unusual right now?” Leslie sighed.

“I don’t pretend to understand non-Gotham supervillain politics, and nobody ever gives me the full explanation anyway, but one of the girls wants Bruce as her consort for reasons, so she hired a mercenary to inject you with some sort of healing treatment to endear herself to Bruce. I’m pretty sure her father’s disapproval was in there somewhere.” Oh. The only father-daughter pair he could think of with enough resources to hire a mercenary who could get past Oracle to get in here were Ra’s and Talia al Guhl, which tallied with the whole consort concept. “And that would be why you’re basically fully recovered after only two weeks and a day. Actually, you were physically recovered in a week, you just took a while to come around, and so I’ve been pulled away from the clinic to make it look like you’re recovering at the natural rate you should be, or maybe slightly faster. And given the amount of time we’ll spend doing ‘physical therapy’, probably counselling you too.”

“I’m sorry. I know you do good work at the clinic, and you don’t like the idea of children being dragged into Batman’s fight, and I’m making you temporarily abandon the latter for the sake of the former.” That earns him a small, warm smile.

“Thank you, but don’t think smooth talk will get you out of anything. Let’s start with an examination of how physically fit you actually are. Without removing the casts, they’re not your gimmicked easy-on-easy-off bat-casts.” Oh, joy. This sounds _fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another newspaper article! After Tim, Babs and Jason, Vicki Vale is pretty much my fourth most frequent viewpoint character so far, which is odd given my general dislike of her.  
> Not much plot development this time, but some nice character reactions to the events of the last few chapters. (And some completely random backstory, Tim's connection with Flash's Rogues has next to no relevance to the actual story, at least Talia and Luthor DID something in their cameos.) I could probably have cut this chapter entirely, but Tim waking up seemed an important scene to show and I liked the writing.


	18. How to inspire a female Robin

“Ok Jason, I’ve double-checked and I’m pretty certain I’m not hallucinating. Why are you in my hospital room dressed as a female nurse? I want an explanation that doesn’t involve the word ‘bet’, if at all possible.” Tim narrowed his eyes at Jason’s steadfast refusal to meet his gaze. “It involves the word ‘bet’, doesn’t it?”

“Uh, not in so many words?”

“It’s _one word_ Jason, how can there be less?” Jason rubbed the back of his head.

“Well, ok, it’s not just for a bet. Y’see, just having Leslie look after you would look strange, well, stranger, so we needed a fake nurse or two, especially because they could act as bodyguards, and for various reasons, such as school holidays, I was the only realistic option right now. I was gonna do it as a guy, but then Dick said that there was no way I would be able to pull it off as a girl, so I had ta prove him wrong.” Tim barely resisted the urge to facepalm, but it was a close thing. “Yeah, Babs pulled the same facial expression, ‘cept she actually facepalmed. You feelin’ alright?”

“Yes. I mean, the casts are very annoying, and literally all I can do is lie in bed and stare at things in between bouts of trauma counselling because I was nearly beaten to death by a psycho clown. But other than that, yes, I’m alright.” Jason didn’t seem to know how to react to what he’d just heard, which was ok, Tim didn’t either. “Sorry, that killed the mood. How are things on… the _job_?” God, that made it sound like the mafia didn’t it?

“We check this room for bugs regularly, you can just ask how things are with Batman and Robin.” Jason settled down in the seat besides Tim, face unusually sombre. “And they’re not at their best. I’m… not technically Robin anymore.”

“What! Why?” What could have happened in the time Tim was out to make Batman fire Jason?

“When you went missing B… B refused to believe that you were in danger, even with the total failure to find you the rest of us were having. He thought trailing Harley Quinn to find Joker was more important, until he grabbed her and found out she was a damn red herring. I mean, it all worked out, thanks to Spoiler, who B would have been shitty about and refused to allow her into the search if he’d joined in, but… it so easily couldn’t have. So I quit.” Tim reached over awkwardly with his free right hand to place it atop Jason’s. He’d only met the teen outside of costume a few times, but he’d seemed so much less alive than when he wore the red-yellow-green. “I, uh, I kinda stole Black Bat. I mean, Babs suggested it as a way to try and stop Joker from fucking working out your identity.” Something about that echoed in Tim’s mind, but whatever it was lost to the blur of crowbar strikes. It would come back if it was important. “Black Bat springing back faster than Tim Drake would reduce the connection. I didn’t have a better identity lined up, so I took it without your permission. Unfortunately, you’re gonna be under too tight media surveillance to take the costume back until Leslie says you can leave the hospital and gives you the all-clear.” Tim patted Jason’s hand.

“You did it for a good cause, that’s the important thing. If you really want to make it up to me, let me beta the design of your actual new identity, we don’t need another Discowing.” _Nobody_ needed another Discowing. The ideal number of Discowings in existence was -1. A small grin broke Jason’s unusual gloom.

“It’s a deal, but don’t you fucking dare take away my pants. Your Black Bat uniform introduced me to them and I will force any future Robin to wear them from day one. The scourge of Dickie-bird’s scaly underwear shall haunt our name no more!” Jason’s smile as he declared the last sentence drew a giggle from Tim, which widened Jason’s smile and made him laugh and- _‘Oh, I’m sorry, I was aiming for your spleen, not your stomach!’ More pain blossomed across Tim’s abdomen. ‘There we go! Now, where next? I know-’_ “-Tim! Can you hear me?!”

“Of course I can hear you, so can half the hospital at that volume.” Jason settled back into the chair he’d gotten up from at some point in Tim’s… episode.

“Fuck. Sorry, I shoulda realised you’d’ve gotten some PTSD from… what happened.” Why was Jason apologising?

“Don’t be, it was my fault for not being strong enough to stop it. Both the Joker and the, the episode I just had.” For a moment, Jason looked bewildered, then for some reason… angry? Before Tim could offer further reassurances, Jason’s face settled into a neutral expression.

“Tell Leslie about what just happened, it’ll help her help you. Anyway, there was something I needed to talk to you about.” Tim shot Jason a glare for changing the topic so obviously, but let him continue. “You became Black Bat because Batman needed a Robin, and you wanted to help me stay as Robin, right?” Tim nodded. “Well, I’m not Robin anymore, and while Dickie-bird and I have eventually agreed on the need for a new one and a candidate for the job, you have first refusal.” Jason pulled a badge with the Robin symbol on from his sleeve. “Wanna be the third Robin?” Tim stared. Sure, he’d considered it as a distant possibility if Jason got fired or died before Tim could find a way to help him, but now, faced with it…

“I… don’t. In many ways I’m still finding out who Black Bat is, but I know he’s not Robin material. I know that sounds incredibly dissociative, but you’ll understand when you’re not trying to stuff yourself into the set shape that is Dick’s legacy as Robin.” Jason nodded understandingly.

“I discovered that as Black Bat. It’s surprising how damn much clothes make the vigilante. That being said, I do have to go and offer this to the other candidate. See you later!” Just before he could stride out the door, Jason turned back to Tim. “Oh, by the way, Spoiler know who we are and wants us to call her Steph out of costume.” Huh, that would probably make more sense if Tim had heard the full story of him being rescued, though at a guess he’s say Sp- Steph was the other Robin candidate in an attempt to stop Batman rejecting them for lack of experience of the reality of their lives. Oh well, he’d just have to wait for Jason’s next shift as his ‘nurse’.

* * *

 

Steph cursed under her breath as she pulled herself to the top of the rusty ladder that led to the roof of her apartment block. What she wouldn’t give for one of Batman and Robin’s grapples to go with the body armour and comm they’d never forced her to return. Not that she actually wore the comm, its radio-based nature made it more likely to be trackable. She wasn’t stupid enough to turn her nose up at protection actually tailored for the female form, instead of being ripped from her father’s costumes, though, not for so small a price as being tracked by kinda-sorta allies.

“Hey Spoiler, never thought I’d run into you up here! How are- Whoa! What the fuck is it with you and trying to hit an honest sidekick with bricks and/or socks?!” Steph snorted, the brick hadn’t come anywhere near him

“An honest sidekick wouldn’t have stolen his partner’s costume. What do you call yourself, Black Robin? Robin Bat?”

“Just Black Bat. And I’m wearing it to prevent the guy who beat him to hell working out who he is. Also because the only other costume I have available has no tights, and I feel like an idiot for not requesting them earlier.” Ok, Steph couldn’t criticise either of those arguments, especially not the tights one.

“And how is… he? Because one day I could get updates by picking my mom up at the end of her shift, the next your… Bruce Wayne… had been throwing money around and only Doc Leslie and a female nurse who looked kinda like you in drag were the only people allowed access.” Steph was no expert on reading expressions through a mask, but if that combination of involuntary twitches and back-of-head rubbing didn’t mean Ro-Bla- _Jason_ was the female nurse she’d eat three slices of cake, because being wrong didn’t mean having to punish herself.

“Sorry, letting you in would kinda be suspicious. He’s doing fine, there’s been a… slight complication, but nothing we can’t work around. You can use names, you know, the moment Babs found out you lived in this building she made it as secure as possible without actually breaking and entering.” Steph wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, her boundaries had been respected to a degree. On the other, how much of the security equipment was monitoring devices? And who exactly was this Babs? She decided to settle on begrudging acceptance until she found out more about the system. Speaking of security… Steph pulled her spare brick from her hoodie pocket and chucked it at whoever was sneaking up behind her, only for them to flip out of the way with ease.

“Y’know, you’re supposed to throw your brickarangs at the _bad_ guys. Hey Little Wing, have you made the offer yet?” Steph stared. From a distance, Nightwing somehow managed to look cool, if a little flashy. Up close he looked like the 80’s had vomited their fashion sense all over him.

Jason glowered at Nightwing “ _Brickarang_ , Dickie-bird? Really? I have to apologise for my adoptive elder brother” Jason nodded towards Nightwing. “He’s made exactly two tasteful decisions in his life, both of them were his hero names, and both of them were inspired by other people.” One of the legendary and intimidating Bats should not have been able to pout that hard.

“So mean.” Jason squawked as Nightwing dragged him into a one armed hug. “But that doesn’t answer my question. Though if you’re calling me by that nick-name then she at least knows our names.”

A sharp jab to the stomach was Jason’s initial response, though Nightwing showed barely any reaction. “Fucking get off me, _Dick._ She’s known since Joker. She told me who she was and I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Oh-ho? Didn’t want to be _rude?_ ” The creepy grin on Nightwing’s face made Steph take a step back. “But yes, that would prove that she can be trusted with our identities.” He ruffle Jason’s hair, then released him. “Go on then, I’ll let you make the offer.” And there was the mention of this ‘offer’ again. What exactly was it? Hopefully not a threesome with their incestuous relationship and wow had she read too many fanfics to be able to jump straight to that conclusion. Jason gaped at Nightwing, probably for sticking him on the spot like that. “I can do it if you’re too scared.” The gape turned into a frown.

“Don’t think I can’t see you fucking playing me, _Dick._ ” The strong emphasis on Nightwing’s name was followed by Jason’s tongue flicking out. “That wasn’t even subtle.” He turned his head to look Steph in the eye, or at least that was what Steph assumed the aim was given both of their masks obscured their eyes. “Ok, I’m gonna preface this by saying that in an ideal world I’d have Tim here because he’s really good at this sort of thing and I’d just have to chip in where applicable. We would like to offer you crime-fighting training, with me, Dick and probably Batman, Oracle and maybe Tim. Well, I say crime fighting training, I mean Robin training. We kinda want you to be the next Robin. Ok we do want you do it. I fucking ramble when I’m nervous, ok?” Her decision to make her mask full-face covering had never been more comforting than when it prevented her from looking like a goggle-eyed loon in front of some of the closest people the criminal side of Gotham had to celebrities.

“You really want the daughter of one of your enemies as the next Robin? Why do you even need a next Robin? Why not choose Tim if you think so highly of him?”

“Ok, first off, my birth mother nearly revealed our secret identities to some of the shittiest people possible. Cluemaster is nowhere near that fucking bad. Secondly, I’ve… outgrown the role, and, well, Robin balances Batman in a fucking important way. Tim has a very persuasive chart explaining that, but I don’t know where he keeps it. He’s also a Batgirl, or the closest male equivalent at least, and they have different styles of operating to us.” Steph narrowed her eyes.

“Different how?” Jason turned to Nightwing, who stepped forwards and smiled.

“When Tim and Babs started out, neither of them could guarantee Batman’s support. This led them to basically become mini-batmen. They’re nowhere near as dark and moody, sure, but they have the same mildly isolationist and pessimistic outlook on life. By contrast, the Robins tend to be more social and optimistic. You strike me as the latter more than the former.” Steph smiled to herself. They had her there. The only question she had left was why the big bad Bat himself wasn’t here, unless…

“Batman doesn’t know you’re doing this, does he?” Nightwing rubbed the back of his head, while Jason muttered something that sounded like ‘told you’.

“Not as such, no. Trust me, if we went the other way around he’d be shutting us down every which way. At least this way you have the chance to prove that you can do it before he finds a way to prove you incapable.” Batman was seriously that degree of a jerk? “Once you’ve done that, though, he’ll defend you as best he can. He was only being a jerk during the Tim crisis because he thought he could help Jason, he’s misguidedly parental like that. You’re not a proper bat-sidekick until you’ve had at least one falling out with him. I can understand you not wanting to risk yourself to that sort of care, though.” Hey, misguidedly parental was a damn sight better than anything Steph’s father had ever hit.

“Ok then, on three conditions. One. No crossdressing. I’m a girl and proud. Two. No hair dye. I’m not going to be a female mimicry of you two. Three. I get to add some tights to the uniform.” Jason stepped forwards.

“If you hadn’t made those conditions we’d’ve recommended them. Welcome aboard.” He held out a hand, which Steph shook.

“Glad to be aboard, I hope.” Nigh- Dick slipped into the gap left by Jason as he stepped back.

“Jason’s gonna have to go patrol now, but if you come with me we can get started on the training right away.” Steph glanced at the ladder she’d had to climb earlier.

“Can we work on using those grapples of yours early on?”

“You like flying? You’re gonna _love_ my curriculum.” That sounded mildly ominous. An arm snaked over her shoulder, drawing her into a strong hug. “Welcome to the bat-family, Prettybird." Actually, if being in the bat-family meant getting called that... "Wow, that sounded better in my head. I’ll try and think of a nickname that sounds less like I’m being a creep.”

“Please do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Steph has finally made it as a proper Robin! Now all she has to do is convince Batman to take her on... Does this mean that at some point in the future after this fic ends she'll have to temporarily give up Robin, and Tim will become the short-lived fourth Robin, a la canon!Steph? Well it's my AU and I say yes, so... Also, poor Tim, finding out that miraculous body-fixing chemicals don't always reach the mind as well.  
> I know this isn't my usual upload day, and you will get a chapter on Thursday as normal, but for the next two weeks after that I will be camping and without internet, so you get two chapters this week, and another two three weeks later when I get back.


	19. How to have a meaningful conversation with Oracle

“You know, Tim, you can stop pretending to be unconscious. It is the correct response to finding a woman you don’t know in your room under current circumstances, but Dinah’s with the Justice League.” Tim cracked open an eye and gave Babs a hard stare. She returned one of her own. “Suspicion does not suit your fluffy bunny aesthetic. I am certain she isn’t a danger.” The glare Tim shot at Babs for the bunny comment also allowed him to study ‘Dinah’. She didn’t resemble any female heroes Tim could think of. Martian Manhunter maybe? Actually… Tim tried to imagine what she’d look like with long blonde hair in place of her current short black style.

“Black Canary, I presume?” The way Dinah started told Tim he was correct. “Nice to meet you, I’m Tim Drake, also known as Black Bat, though you probably knew that.  I’d offer to shake your hand, but, well…” He used his right hand to gesture at the casts on all three of his other limbs. Dinah strode closer and stuck her hand out. Her handshake was unusually firm.

“Nice to meet you Tim. I’m Dinah Lance, Black Canary, and I’ll be trading off with Martian Manhunter, Superman and the Bats to prevent somebody getting at you again. Oracle, you said something about wanting a private conversation?”  Babs gave her a genial smile.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Dinah waved as she slipped out of the door. “Good to see you… not actually up and about, but you could be if it weren’t for the media attention.” Tim snorted.

“I can’t be _that_ interesting, I’m just lying in a hospital bed pretending to still be in a coma.” Babs stared at him for a few moments. “What?”

“Sorry, I just forgot the number of things I was going to have to bring you up to date on. They’re interested in you because you’re the child in the centre of the neglect case of the century.” What. How? Tim wasn’t going to contest it as untrue, but when had it reached the media?

“Did you have something to do with it?” Because Babs had never really hidden her dislike of Tim’s parents.

“No, but I would have ensured it happened had some anonymous hacker not released all the relevant documents to the police and the media at the same time. Though I definitely wouldn’t have included the media until the scandal became too large to hide. And I’d have tried to ask you first.” None of the …less than law abiding… people that Tim knew were aware of his parental situation had the kind of hacking skills to pull that off. And while it was possible for one of them to have employed a proxy, they tended to not be on the charity-offering side. So Tim was probably going to have to watch out for recruitment or adoption offers from a potential unknown in the near future. Yay.

“So what’s going to happen to me now?” Babs reached over to grab Tim’s hand.

“Well, your parents don’t really have a leg to stand on as far as retaining their parental rights go. Sure, they probably won’t actually be terminated until you are able to testify in court, but a couple of your former caretakers have given statements that wrecked their case in the current hearing. Jane Northern particularly.” Huh. Cheshire must really hate his father for leaving her to take care of a pre-teen while he ran around the world instead of having the decency to stay home and be assassinated, especially after her contractor got taken out first so she wouldn’t get paid by anyone but the Drakes. “So the main issue is who you want to live with afterwards.”

“Wait, you’re not just going to tell me?” Babs looked genuinely taken aback at the question.

“I’m not going to force you to obey me unthinkingly on a decision this large. Hell, even when I tell you to obey me I don’t want it to be unthinkingly.” Tim frowned.

“Yeah, because that’s in the field, where I can recognise threats before you. This is not the field, you’re an adult, you know best.” Babs removed her hand to clench it in her lap.

“Ok Tim. I am going to ask you a question. You are going to answer honestly. Understood.” Her tone was too terse for Tim to do anything but nod. “Who told you your opinion is worth less than mine because of your age, especially on something this important to your future?”

“My mother. She always made certain I didn’t mess up my future, even if that meant bypassing me and making the school change my chosen subjects. Didn’t your parents?” Babs’s face was doing a very good audition for the role of the Hulk.

“Your mother. Does not. _Deserve._ To have her name. On your birth certificate. If that isn’t emotional abuse it’s 99 percent of the way there _._ ”

“Sure, it’s a little controlling, but it’s not that bad, it gives me the best future possible. Her methods aren’t that great, but-”

“But _nothing_! She went over your head to force you into the future she wants without giving you a choice, to the extent of only allowing you one hobby as a token of giving you a childhood. You have been isolated from your peers, and don’t deny that one, I know you’d be lying. And you have been repeatedly abandoned. Before you tell me that’s all normal, compare it to how Bruce interacts with Dick and Jason.” Tim stopped the protest about to spill from his mouth, and thought. Dick had recently announced that he was thinking of becoming a police officer. If Tim had said that, he would have been locked in his room with two meals a day until he recanted his statement. Bruce had merely questioned Dick’s ability to fight crime 24/7 and prompted Dick to talk to Commissioner Gordon about it, as well as suggesting a few safer jobs in a similar vein. He knew he’d been neglected, but abused? It fit all the criteria he’d learned in his Bat-training, but they’d always said they provided enough supervision, so proper care had been taken, right? His inner debate must have shown on his face, because Babs grabbed his hand again. “It’s okay, you won’t have to go back there again, even if we have to put you in some technically illegal form of witness protection.” Tim gladly threw away the uncertain thoughts for a while to focus on the next step.

“You said you were thinking about who I’d live with, right? Is that one of the options you were thinking of?” Babs gave him a small, but fake, smile.

“Yes, you’d probably end up being ‘fostered’ by a Justice League member. We were mainly considering it in case Joker found out your identity. Is it an idea you like?” The smile Tim gave Babs was far more genuine.

“No, I just wanted to see how you’d react to a choice you might find unfavourable.” Babs’s smile turned real and very sharp, playing her further would not be a good idea. “What are the alternatives?”

“Well, you could go into the normal foster system. It’d give you an actually normal family. But it would also give you an actual normal family.” Which pretty much summed up the pros and cons of that sort of thing for a vigilante. Also he ran the risk of somebody with influence and an interest in him trying to get him on their side. “You could also be taken in by a Justice League member or affiliate without the whole ‘fake name and history’ factor, though I doubt you’d want to leave Gotham. And if neither of those options impress, Bruce would be happy to take you in, to the degree that I only mentioned it last so that you’d consider the other options.” Tim frowned. Sure, Bruce was a good father, but he didn’t feel the strong desire to live with him Babs seemed to think he would. Instead…

“When you mentioned being taken in by a League member, you also said ‘or affiliate’, right? Would you be on that list of affiliates?” The grip Babs had on his hand tightened as she stared at Tim dumbfounded.

“I… Yes, had Bruce not wanted to take you in I would have gladly made the offer, but I’d have thought that the opportunity to live with your childhood idols…” Tim squeezed her hand back.

“I’m not denying that I would be happy living with them, but I’d be at least just as happy living with you, and there’s one difference that swings the balance. Dick, Jason and Bruce taught me how to believe in other people by being my heroes. If I lived with them, I’d probably become at least a little co-dependent on my role in the family, both in and out of costume. You taught me how to believe in myself by teaching me to be somebody else’s hero. By living with you and working with the family I’d be fine with or without support, though I’d rarely be without. Also, living with you feels… right… in a way living with Bruce doesn’t.” Babs took her hand away to wipe something from her eye, and gave him one of the brightest smiles he’d ever seen her pull.

“And you’re sure you want this?”

“Have I ever made a suggestion I’m not willing to follow through on? Besides the threats I made on Dick’s life after he forgot the only people that come close to being as flexible as him are the shapeshifters and left me temporarily paralysed.” Because when your arms are stuck in a half-nelson without anybody holding them you have every right to be angry. Babs giggled softly at the memory.

“No, I don’t think so, but now I’m worried that you’re going to commit arson on Scarecrow.” Oh, right, his first time out with Jason.

“ _Controlled_ arson. There’s an important difference.” _That_ made Babs actually laugh, which made him- _try his hardest to scream through the gag as he felt his ribs crack and heard the Joker’s resulting-_ gasp as Babs shook his shoulder trying to pull him out of his… episode. “It’s okay now.” Babs gave him a sorrowful look.

“No it’s not. Jason told me this happened yesterday, but in the moment it slipped my mind. I know I’m not the first person to tell you this, but you need to talk honestly with Leslie about this. You may have woken up with your body fully restored if a bit atrophied, but your mind is going to take a bit more effort, and she’s the closest thing we have to a psychiatrist that we can trust with all the details of our lives.” Tim opened his mouth to tell her that he was _‘fine’_ , that she _‘didn’t need to worry’_ , but found himself on the receiving end of a deadpan stare last seen on Batgirl’s face just before she revealed she’d defused Killer Moth’s bombs five minutes ago. Probably not the best face to try lying to. Well, it couldn’t hurt to try…

“I’ll give it a go.” Something about the ‘trust with all the details’ comment was familiar to Tim… oh shit! “Joker knows who Batman is behind the mask! I should have remember earlier, guess the skull fracture messed with my eidetic memory. He did say something about having no interest in the man behind the mask, but I’m not sure that degrades the danger level.” Babs sucked air through her teeth as she tensed up.

“Fuck.” Yeah, that about summed it up. “Did he give you any indication of when he worked it out? Because he really didn’t want to hear it from Sheila Haywood.”

“Absolutely none. I think his exact words were _‘The whole point of this game is beating Batman, not some stupid rich guy with an extensive cave system under his mansion!’_ which isn’t very time specific, but somewhat reassuring as far as the whole he-can-murder-Bruce-in-his-sleep thing goes.” The tension in Bab’s body visibly reduced, though it didn’t vanish, transitioning instead into a steady roll back and forth in her wheelchair.

“I guess if he did know back then, he didn’t trust his various henchmen not to blab. We’re going to have to discuss what to do with this information with Bruce, it’s him, Alfred and Jason at risk.” A frown spread across Tim’s face.

“What about Dick?” Babs’s wheelchair stilled.

“Oh, sorry. I got too caught up in the conversation and forgot I came here to bring you up to date. That should probably take priority, the amount of things you need to learn about is building up. It’s not like my system won’t alert me if Joker breaks out in the hour or so it’ll take me to do that and tell Bruce that we have this problem.” A knock came at the door. Babs and Tim answered simultaneously.

““Come in!”” Dinah stuck her head around the door.

“Sorry, but I’m beginning to attract strange looks hanging around in the corridor, are you done or should I disappear somewhere else?”

“I don’t have anything else particularly private to talk about, any private questions, Tim?” Tim shook his head. “Come on in then, you can help me catch Tim up on what he’s missed.” She nodded and slipped through the door.

“Actually, I have a quick question I want to ask first. When exactly did the kid start going grey?” He had? Tim strained to pull his short fringe down into his field of vision, before stopping to allow Babs to grab his chin and compare both sides of his face for some reason.

“Well, she’s not wrong, you’re going to have quite the skunk stripe when that finishes changing colours.” Before he could ask Babs what she meant, Dinah handed him a hand compact. The difference wasn’t that great yet, but when you knew what to look for, it was fairly obvious that a patch of hair just to the left side of his fringe was just a few shades lighter than anywhere else on his head. “Probably a side effect of the serum you were injected with. It’s going to be problematic if it shows up on both of your identities at the same time. You’ll have to dye it.” That was definitely prudent, but…

“Can I just use a temporary dye until it’ll all done changing? I’m not going to keep it in both IDs, but if it looks good Black Bat could keep it, because he’s more likely to end up in situations where dealing with roots would be hard to impossible.” Babs gave him an appraising look, then nodded.

“Batman will probably have a coronary because of the risks you’d be taking with your safety, but seriously Justice League members have made much stupider decisions for reasons far worse than looking good. Honestly, I’d be a hypocrite if I stopped you given that I left my hair long as Batgirl despite knowing how easily it could be grabbed.” Dinah gave him a thumbs up.

“Nice to meet a Bat-kid that actually gives a damn about their appearance. Seriously, bootie shorts and gold feathers?” Of course people would judge them all on Dick’s fashion sense. They needed to get around to holding an intervention.

“Blame Nightwing, everybody else has agreed to give up wearing costumes he helped design.” Babs sounded tired, as if it wasn’t her first time explaining this. Given her status as Dick’s Batgirl, it probably wasn’t. “We should probably get back on track, we don’t have all day to have this talk.” Dinah made a ‘go ahead’ gesture. “Now, where should I start? I guess with the initial realisation that you’d vanished…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should really be called 'Tim and Babs have a surprising number of unanticipated revelations', but that didn't fit with the naming scheme. It actually feels a little ridiculous, the number of them I put in this chapter, but the alternative was dragging this fic out by having a number of crappy chapters with Tim and various Batfamily members, each one only existing to make one of those revelations.  
> As I said last chapter, there will be no updates next week or the week after, as I will be camping in France with no devices that have enough storage to carry one of these chapters on. So I will see you again in three weeks with two updates in a week again.


	20. How to curse out failed parents

A near perfect rendition of Batglare #1, the resting Bat-ch face, glowered back at Tim from the hand mirror. Even though he was now _officially_ awake, the fact that he was supposed to be under observation due to multiple ‘broken bones’ and the after effects of the skull fracture meant that all he could do to entertain himself was try to master the various non-verbal communication methods the Bats used. The various Nightwing and Robin smiles and smirks had come easily enough, but Batman was giving him some trouble, which made him perfect for distracting Tim from his own thoughts.

The problem with being officially awake, instead of officially being in a coma but actually being awake and sassy, was that people who weren’t in on the deception could visit you. And the courts had decided that his parents would be allowed to visit him with an escort, dividing Tim’s thoughts. The part of him that was Timothy Jackson Drake, Janet’s heir, was telling him Babs’s claims of him being emotionally abused were just the result of his words being taken out of context. The part of him that was Black Bat screamed back that it met nearly every criteria for that sort of abuse they’d been taught. The part of him that was just Tim was stuck in the middle not knowing what to think.

“Good morning Timothy.” Mrs Green, the court appointed escort (And, besides the social worker, the only person on Tim’s case that Bruce and Babs’s overprotective streaks hadn’t replaced with a Justice League member in disguise the second they found out Lex Luthor was sniffing around the possibility of adopting him.), led Tim’s father into the room. His mother was conspicuously absent. “How are you today?”

“Well, the casts itch,” True. “and there are aches where I assume all the breaks in my bones are” Not technically true, there weren’t any breaks anymore, but there were a few aches on his skin he assumed came from lacerations scarring while in the cast. “but generally, I’m doing alright.” Tim’s father settled in the chair beside his bed.

“That’s good. Your mother had a board meeting that she couldn’t cancel, she won’t be here today.” Tim was pretty sure Jack Drake was still the CEO of Drake Industries, shouldn’t it have been his mother telling him why his father was absent? The last time they’d given this bad of an excuse… oh. He barely remained aware of his father’s talk of _‘loss of contracts’_ and _‘bad publicity’_ , too wrapped up in his revelation. His father had explained his mother’s absence badly. He was now… yes, he was now talking about how DI needed international contracts to keep working. Tim knew where this would end.

“You can cut the crap, dad. When are you leaving?” He was distantly aware that he was channelling how Jason spoke about Willis Todd, but couldn’t bring himself to care. Jack Drake’s mouth dropped open, while Mrs Green let out a shocked murmur. “Oh, don’t look at me like you can’t understand what I’m saying. I’ve lost count of the number of times this conversation has happened, but it always ends with you flying off across the world with mom and without me.” Mrs Green’s hand flew to her mouth in an almost comically Victorian fashion, but Tim was more focused on the way Jack Drake’s face crumpled down to catch up with his bottom jaw.

“No it doesn’t, not that time when…” Jack stopped. “No, we had plans to leave that had to be cancelled when your grandmother died.” An awkward silence filled the room as Jack shrank into his seat and Tim found himself unleashing the Batglare on him. “I’m sorry.” Tim’s glare faltered.

“For what?”

“Neither of us were ready to be your parents, for all that we wanted to be. Janet wanted a perfect heir for DI, I wanted a son I could share my love of sports with, and we ended up with you, who has no interest in either of those things. And in return, we had very little interest in you beyond how you could benefit us. And I am _ashamed_ that it took you nearly dying for either of us to realise that.” Tim couldn’t find his voice. “I’m sorry for doing that to you. I know that doesn’t make it any better, but I am. You don’t have to forgive me. You _shouldn’t_ forgive me.” The words Tim had lost all came rushing back.

“Especially now Mom’s decided getting me back isn’t worth the effort and you’ve gone along with her ruling like you do every time.” It had just been a worst-case scenario thought experiment, Tim was certain he was getting the leaving conversation because his parents were leaving after the actual trial when his mother thought he’d be back in their house. But Jack just avoided eye contact with him and sagged further. “Get out.” Jack’s head snapped around fast enough Tim could have sworn he should have gotten whiplash, while Mrs Green seemed to suddenly remember she was supposed to be mediating, not watching the drama unfold.

“Timothy, are you sure-”

“I’m sure. I have nothing to say to someone who knows he did the wrong thing by abandoning me and _won’t stop._ Get. Out!” Jack stood to leave silently, while Mrs Green spouted platitudes about _‘feeling better about seeing you the next time’_ and _‘Your Mom and Dad won’t just abandon you’_ , which just showed how little she understood the actual Drake family dynamic. Janet made decrees, Jack obeyed them, and Tim felt bitter about them. Until a few seconds ago, at least.

Jack turned back in the doorway to meet Tim’s glare with a kicked-puppy look that might have worked had Tim not met Dick’s version. Because he had, it just unlocked Batglare #12, the _run if you don’t want your ass handed to you_ glare. Quite wisely, Jack decided to leave without adding some sort of plea about staying in contact, though Mrs Green did try it for him before giving in to Tim’s silence and exiting.

“Just so you know, Babs, I currently have no interest in doing that again.” He addressed the bug on the side table directly. It didn’t actually respond, but it wasn’t equipped to, so that wasn’t too surprising. Tim settled back in the bed and tried to decide which of the Bats would turn up for him to rant to.

* * *

 

Batman pulled his cape tighter around himself and increased his glare output as he strode through Arkham’s corridors. It was incredibly inconvenient that Tim’s first post-Joker meeting with his parents was at the same time as his first post-beating meeting with the Joker, but neither could be postponed, so he would have to trust Dick, Jason and Babs with the inevitable fallout while he checked on the worst security breach in Batman’s history.

“Sir, Mr Arkham says you can’t go in-” The doctor that had been chasing him throughout his unauthorised access got cut off as the virus Oracle had put in the asylum computers activated and triggered a near-total lockdown, shutting out anyone who would want to keep him away from the Joker and turning off the cameras. This was a private discussion.

“Well hey there Batsy! Took you a while, I’da thought you’d be storming in here minutes after poor ickle Tiny Timmy woke up and gave you the news!” So it was true.

“When did-”

“I work it out? Back in the old Red Hood days. Well, at the end of them at any rate. Nothing like a pool of toxic chemicals to loosen the detective brain muscles! So you can trust me, see? The whole point of the game is me killing you, or maybe you killing me, I forget, so even you, Mr World’s Greatest Detective, can’t tell me a possible motive to tell somebody else. And killing one of those vapid masks your family puts up to disguise your real, batty selves from the world would be ruining the whole point! Tell Batgirl I’m sorry, by the by, I didn’t put two and two together about who she was until after I crippled her. If I’d known I’da done it when she was herself!” For all that the glare never left his face, Batman was gaping internally. Joker had known all that time? And never given a hint of it at all? He probably only told Tim out of an assumption he’d turn out to be another Sheila Haywood-style victory where Batman and Robin were too late. He clicked his comm once.

“No matter how well you’ve kept the secret until now, I can’t take that chance again.” Joker’s confused frown turned into shock as J’onn phased through the ceiling. “He’s been in this situation since a few years before Robin 1, will that present an issue?” J’onn shook his head.

“I can do it in instalments if the effort is too great for one push, the nature of the operation precludes suspicion under normal circumstances.” Batman kept Joker in his peripheral vision as he turned to face the Martian.

“The Joker is never listed under normal circumstances. Be careful in there.” J’onn nodded and turned his full focus on the Joker simultaneously with Batman.

“In where? Wait, you didn’t bring Marvin here to me to mess with my mind did- urk!” The Joker was left with an expression similar to the fish he’d once injected with his Joker venom as the full force of J’onn’s telepathy hit. Performing a mind wipe had never been Batman’s first recourse, but of all the rogues to learn his identity, he couldn’t pick one he’d like worse than Joker. Now, in a best case scenario, Joker would be whoever he had been when he wore the Red Hood, maybe not totally sane but salvageable. Batman sincerely doubted that would happen, though. If Joker had a metahuman power it would be to turn a bad situation worse.

J’onn let out a gasp and fell to his knees at the same time as the Joker flopped over unconscious.

“His mind was too twisted to restore. I managed to erase all his memory of this meeting, as well as all knowledge of superhero identities and related locations. I also tried setting up structures that would erase knowledge of those identities should he re-learn them. Given the circumstances in there, I’d say they’ll last at best two days.” Batman gave him a hand up.

“Honestly, that’s far better than I expected. His special kind of madness has caught me off guard often enough and I only grapple with it figuratively. I’m not going to force you to do more than you’ve done today.” Part of him was screaming about violation of standard personality, but Bruce felt anyone who came out of Joker’s mind sane deserved to see behind the mask a little, especially when they went in there at his request. J’onn staggered and Bruce caught him. “That obviously tired you more than you expected. I have an ancillary Batcave under the asylum, you can rest there.” And Bruce could check in on how things were going with Tim. He had a really bad feeling about him.

* * *

 

Preferably, Bruce would be contacting Janet Drake by bursting through her window as Batman with Robin, Nightwing and maybe Catwoman (This sort of abuse case could seduce her across the hero/villain line.) at his back. Unfortunately for both his violent tendencies and Gotham’s blooming window-replacement industry, in order to have an alibi to talk to her about Tim (and the comments he had made about it being her decision to abandon him) he had to do it as both Brucie Wayne and the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Luckily, Lucius had had no problem terminating the various contracts between WE and DI, even at such short notice. Two meetings with people who had hurt Tim in one day, hopefully this wasn’t going to set the tone for Tim’s adoption into the family. (Even if Dick and Barbara weren’t in a relationship anymore, there was always a part of Bruce that thought of her like a daughter or niece, which made Tim a pseudo-grandson/grandnephew.) That being said, if it did keep happening, preferably more of the meetings would be like the one with Joker. At least his cell showed some personality, this office could have come straight from a catalogue. And Batman could fight his way out if things went south, while Brucie was limited to senseless small-talk.

“Good afternoon, Mr Wayne. It’s rare for you to visit personally, what can I do for you?” The smile Janet gave him would have been very convincing had it reached her eyes.

“Well, ah, actually, I was hoping to talk to Jack? About the Wayne Enterprises contracts?” It was at times like this that Bruce cursed himself for making his public persona so different from who he actually was. It worked at the parties that were where he normally pulled on Brucie, but keeping someone as intelligent as Janet from becoming suspicious in a one-on-one conversation was going to be hard.

“Anything you want to say to my husband, you can say to me. He’s authorised me to run DI today in his absence.” To phrase it more accurately, Janet decided to stop CEO-ing by proxy for a day.

“Oh, right, you had visitation rights today, didn’t you? How was Tim? The nurses have only let Jason in once while he was awake, he’s very concerned about his best friend.” There. Jason provided a legitimate excuse for Bruce knowing about the visit, in case she asked, and Bruce wanting to know about the result. Now, what sort of rope would Janet give him?

“Oh, I didn’t go. It’s not like the courts will let us keep him, they managed to even portray the most positive parts of our parenting as bad things. Now it’s just a matter of managing the negative publicity. You wouldn’t believe the number of contracts we’ve lost because of this misunderstanding.” The smile that didn’t travel far enough up Janet’s face had barely budged an inch. Bruce gave a small one of his own, a far better facsimile of the real thing, especially given it was hiding incandescent rage. The only misunderstanding here was Janet’s idea that she could be seen as a parent when she reacted to the almost inevitable loss of her child so calmly.

“Y’know, I’ve only gone through child custody cases from the side trying to adopt, not retain, but the basics are the same, you try to sell yourself as a good parent to everyone involved. Totally abandoning all attempts to retain custody tend not to do that, you’ll just be inviting more negative publicity.” Janet’s smile finally changed, taking on a mocking edge.

“But that’s not what we’re doing. We recognise out neglect of Timothy, and acknowledge that we doubt our ability to change our treatment of him, so we are allowing him to get the family he deserves, which is not the one he was born to. Our capitulation will sate the public, DI will recover, and once Timothy’s older, we can reconnect, possibly after we pay his college fund, and he can take over DI like he’s always been intended to.” Bruce definitely preferred confronting Joker, his delusions may have been larger but they were also in many ways saner. Or at least, so mad they came around the full 360 degrees and started to look sane. The public might well be sated by their pretty words while they dropped Tim like he was on fire, but Tim and the courts definitely wouldn’t. Her ability to laser-focus on how to gain what she desired made Janet formidable in the business world, but by applying it to the child custody case she seemed to forget there was a criminal neglect case going on at the same time, to whom she basically planned to plead guilty, and that her son was more than old and smart enough to realise he was being thrown aside for her business and hobby again. Bruce made a quick mental note to pay Tim’s tuition should he want to go to college, right now it looked like a conversation with his mother would have Tim testing his loyalty to the no-kill rule. He might cool with age, but Bruce didn’t want to take the risk. “Now, as fascinating as this conversation is, I doubt the estimable Lucius Fox sent you here to discuss child custody cases.”

Bruce allowed a bit of Batman to bleed into his smirk to give it the edge Brucie Wayne lacked. “We at Wayne Enterprises feel we cannot be seen to support child neglect, especially as many of the charities we support are devoted to stopping it. As such, we are terminating all contracts we have terminated to Drake Industries, effective as soon as possible." He set the two bulging briefcases of paperwork he carried down onto her desk with far less force than he would have liked to. "Good day Mrs Drake, I hope you enjoyed your foray into the world of running a company.” Janet’s sputtering provided a surprisingly enjoyable soundtrack to Bruce striding out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly a standard way to resolve the Drake/Wayne fight over Tim, but I wasn't going to kill them off, and didn't feel I could do any sort of court scene justice, so this felt like the most in-character solution. The reasoning behind the Joker mind-wipe was similar, though that definitely won't stick for very long, and will probably be something he taunts the Bats with in the future. Also, no matter what I write from here on out, 'resting Bat-ch face' will probably remain my best ever pun.  
> Oh, and I'm back. Had a lovely time, ready to get back to posting. This chapter was supposed to go up last week, look out for this week's one tomorrow or the day after.


	21. How to become a full bat-family member

** A shocking confession! Drakes abandon custody battle! **

_By V. Vale_

Yesterday, in a shocking twist to the child custody battle of the century, Janet Drake confessed to having recognised her neglect of her son, Timothy Drake. She claimed that having come to that realisation, rather than trying to fix her parenting methods, that it would be better were Tim put into the care system

This understandably did not make her many fans in the courtroom. If there was a world record for fastest legal termination of parental rights then this trial would definitely be in the running. As Judge Hawes said in her summing up: “To have recognised and owned up to your wrongdoing is admirable. To have recognised and owned up to it, and refuse to change the behaviours behind it, is unacceptable from a parent. I have no choice but to refer your criminal neglect case to the criminal justice department, and if I had another choice I would not take it.”

Jack and Janet Drake refused to comment after the trial.

* * *

 

Tim felt oddly numb as Alfred rolled the wheelchair he was in to keep his weight off his ‘broken’ legs through the door of the Clocktower that had just become his new home. He’d already known that his parents wouldn’t fight to keep him, but to hear his mother’s total bullshit about _‘recognising their neglect’_ and _‘giving him a better family’_ had been on a whole different level. It had been almost all he could think of in the few days he’d spent at the group home while the paperwork to make Babs his foster mother went through.

“Welcome home!” The Clocktower’s living room was crammed with Babs, Dick, Jason, Leslie, Dinah for some reason and a blonde girl he assumed to be Steph by process of who-else-could-she-be. Before he could react Tim found himself in a full scale Grayson Octopus Hug™ that would have sent him skidding backwards had his brakes not been on.

“Babybat! How’s it feel being part of the family officially?!” Tim struggled to pull his head away from the blue shirt.

“Very much like when I was an unofficial member, but with a lot more… difficulty… breathing!” The hug transitioned into a firm grip on both shoulders.

“Sorry, bit overexcited, haven’t gotten to see you while you were awake since you woke up, getting established in Bludhaven has been harder than I anticipated, most of the time I’ve been able to get to Gotham was outside of visiting hours and devoted to training Steph or watching you sleep in a not-at-all creepy manner.” That last part thoroughly deserved all the raised eyebrows it got. Leslie stepped forwards and pulled Dick’s arm away.

“If you’ll let me take him to his bedroom for some privacy, Richard, Alfred and I can remove Timothy’s casts and restore his mobility. Officially, he won’t be ready for a few weeks, but we all know how much bull that is.” It felt like it took five seconds for Tim to be whisked from room to room, finally letting him understand why Alfred was top of the list of people Babs wouldn’t let move her wheelchair, slightly above everybody else in the universe. The room itself was quite nice, Black Bat grey with all his books and photo albums from the Drake manor (Which Tim wasn’t sure he wanted to ask if they were acquired legitimately.) on the multiple bookshelves and an en suite.

The casts themselves came off fairly quickly. The various bandages where Tim had had lacerations took a bit longer, if only because they were so spread across his body and a few did _not_ want to come off. Leslie and Alfred excused themselves once the last bandage came off, telling Tim to shower and change, and unknowingly (Actually, probably very knowingly) forcing him to face what the Joker had done to his body for the first time.

His left arm and both legs were pale, flaky and smelly, though that could firmly be blamed on the casts. After washing the dye from his hair in the shower, the grey streak was very visibly grey, going on silver. The only change Tim really had trouble looking at, however, was the scars. Clearly, as opposed to what he had heard of the Lazarus Pits, Deathstroke’s serum, at the dosage he received, didn’t prevent scar formation as it healed. They streaked across his body like a demented cobweb, leaving it not unrecognisable, but it would certainly make for a striking before and after image. Pulling on a long sleeved shirt, he was just thankful his hands and face were scar-free.

When he returned to the living room, Dinah was the only person present, pretending (badly) to be engrossed in a picture of the Gotham skyline.

“Seen from above it almost looks normal, doesn’t it?” Dinah spun, stifling a sound that was somewhere between a swearword and her Canary cry, though luckily nowhere near as loud as the latter. “Sorry, I’m unusually stealthy for my age.”

“For any age, I’d say. Everybody else moved up to the hidden rooms, there’s more space and the new Robin will get warning before Batman arrives from his work thing so she can hop out a window and avoid him finding out before everybody thinks she’s ready. Which sounds a little strange to me, but it apparently worked with you so…” Well, if by worked she meant ‘set off a giant argument and forced Tim into an audition that Alfred rendered irrelevant before it happened’ then yes it worked. Tim really couldn’t see why they were concealing Steph’s recruitment. Then again, he hadn’t really seen how Batman was reacting in the wake of Joker.

“Would it be rude to ask why you’re here? I mean, you’re kinda a big deal in Star city, and the Justice League, and you don’t seem to have any real reason to be here, and I’m babbling aren’t I?” Dinah grinned and grabbed him in a one-armed hug.

“I don’t mind, it just shows you’re thinking about the questions you ask. Yes, I’m a big deal in Star, but Gotham was where I was born and raised, and if Batman can manage League commitments from here then so can I. In a worst case scenario I can just hitch a lift. As for my reason to be here, well, one of the stipulations on Oracle taking you in was that she needed to have a helper at hand in case something happened to the boy with ‘two broken legs’ and he needed help she couldn’t provide from a wheelchair, and the only alternatives were Nightwing and… the ex-Robin-that-doesn’t-have-a-new-name. Nightwing’s still trying to gain traction in Bludhaven, and ex-Robin’s going to be back at school soon, so I was the best choice.” Surely she knew everybody’s names if she was in this house? “And yes, I do know their names, it just still feels strange knowing they don’t sleep upside down on the ceiling of a cave.” She started to steer Tim towards the vigilante-focused areas of the Clocktower. “Also, we need more kickass women in our line of work and this new Robin certainly has the potential, so I can help train her, and Oracle has approached me about the possibility of working with her to bust the crimes she discovers on a more international scale. Just so you know this isn’t all about you and don’t get big-headed.” They stopped in front of the door to the computer room. “Not that you seem like the sort of person who would do that easily.” She spun Tim and put her hands on his shoulders. “Listen, I know you’re getting counselling from Dr Thompkins, but if you ever need to talk about the perils of teenage superhero-hood to someone who’s lived through them, I am always available, ok? I may not understand what’s going on with your parents, but I can certainly listen to that as well. Now, brace for impact, because I don’t think Nightwing plans on letting you go for longer than five seconds.”

It actually took seven seconds between people noticing Tim had entered the room and somebody tucking him under their arm (Again. Sometimes Tim really cursed his height.), though it was Dick that did it, so Dinah wasn’t totally wrong. He was quickly manhandled over to the mats, where Steph was failing at one of the simpler signature Robin flips, and Jason seemed torn between bursting out laughing at said failure and actually helping her do it, which really didn’t encourage her to take his advice, most of which seemed sound. A judicious application of nerve strikes gave Tim enough breathing room to offer her a hand up.

“Thanks. Hey, it’s you! Well, this is a party thing to celebrate you getting to live with Babs, so why wouldn’t it be you? Sorry about the whole nearly hitting you with a brick in a sock thing, and the mistaking you for a girl thing, and the running away thing. Which now that I think about it accounts for 60 to 70 percent of our actual interaction up to this point, so we should probably start from the beginning. Hi, I’m Stephanie Brown, but you can call me Steph. I used to be Spoiler and I’m going to be Robin once I can get these stupid flips down.” Tim shook the hand she offered him.

“Hi Steph, I’m Tim Drake, the once-and-future Black Bat. Quick word of advice for getting those flips down, listen to Jason. He may be trying not to laugh now, but Babs showed me some of his training footage and he was just as bad as you are when he started out, unlike Dick, who can’t remember a time when he couldn’t do these things.” She gave him a small nod, while behind her Jason flashed him the bat-signs for _thanks_ and _sorry, that sass was badly timed_ (Tim still wasn’t entirely certain why that sign existed, but it had its uses.).

“I’ll keep that in mind. Oh, you just reminded me!” From one of the bags next to the mat she grabbed a small black bundle. “Dick insisted we give you housewarming gifts, so here you go! Wasn’t sure what you’d like so I went with a safe option. And if the big B asks, I wasn’t here, Canary gave it to you.”

“Before you ask, I’m A-Okay with being used for that excuse. Since I’ll be helping train Robin anyway it won’t be any great stretch to make teaching you a few new tricks my actual gift.” Dinah and Babs had wandered over from the computers, while Alfred and Leslie seemed to have materialised from the ether (Seriously, neither of them were in the room when Tim entered.) leaving Tim at the centre of a circle of attention.

“Oh, um… thanks. I look forward to learning from you.” Steph jammed her bundle into Tim’s hands, stepped back, and gave him a _go on_ gesture. The bundle turned out to be a black t-shirt with a batsymbol on it which would have been nice but the quality was… wait a minute, that colour was…

“They’re _already_ making bootleg Black Bat t-shirts?!”

“I know, it’d be awesome if they didn’t have such crappy quality. Then again, at the price I paid it’s amazing I got any cloth at all.”

“That is _cool!_ ” The already annoyingly familiar presence of Dick’s arm snaked around Tim again. “I’ve been around for years, but I’ve never seen a bootleg Nightwing shirt.” At least four voices muttered variations on _‘I wonder why, can’t be your fashion sense.’_ Tim was 85% certain he was one of them. “My turn now! Here you go!”

“You’ve given me an aerosol and… washing up liquid?” Tim was starting to develop a profane understanding of why Jason could be so spiky with Dick.

“No! Well, kinda. The aerosol is spray-in temporary black hair dye, and the washing-up liquid bottle contains the only solvent that can remove it from your hair. Don’t ask me why it’s in that bottle, I try not to question WE’s R&D department, just in case they get annoyed and unleash their arcane knowledge against me.” Ok, that was kinda handy, even if Tim decided not to let the white streak out as Black Bat he could still use the dye without risking it washing out. Tim made a quick mental note to self: add Wayne Enterprises R&D to list of potential future careers, the work would be interesting and Tim could hold that last sentence over Dick’s head for years.

“Thanks Dick! Also, thanks Steph, some _rude person_ cut in before I could say it before.” Dick’s arm left Tim’s shoulders to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, giving Tim the opportunity to get away and latch onto Babs. He whispered quietly into her ear.

“Sorry about the limpet impression, if that arm pulls me into Dick’s side again I will be in danger of tearing it off and beating him with it, and you’re the only huggable person in the room he won’t pounce on.” She patted him on the arm while responding at just as low a volume.

“You’re not the first person to be driven to that point, trust me.” At a more normal volume she called out to Dick. “Hey, primary ex-boy wonder! I didn’t realise we were doing a big presentation of our presents, can you grab mine from Tim’s room?”

“Sure!” Dick bounded out, letting Tim release Babs. Jason and Steph both gave him sympathetic grins, they’d both probably had to endure many hugs every time Dick came back from Bludhaven.

“Master Timothy, I do believe this should be of interest to you.” Tim put down the dye, solvent and t-shirt to accept the hardcover book Alfred was offering him upside down.

“Birdlife of Great Britain?” Why would…

“I am aware you were an avid birdwatcher before you became Black Bat, I thought this might rekindle something.” Did Tim just get a gag gift from _Alfred Pennyworth_! Leslie, Dinah and Steph all looked mildly confused, but the way Babs and Jason were grinning widely told him he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Oh, uh, thank you. It looks interesting.” Actually, it really did.

“I’m glad to hear it. Now, Master Jason, if I may make a suggestion, your gift was going to be giving Master Tim a special preview of the design for your new identity in private, correct? That would probably be easier if you go next door” Alfred nodded to the room containing the exercise equipment and batarang targets “now, when Master Dick isn’t present to try and follow.” Jason picked up the other bag that was next to Steph’s and gave Alfred a grateful smile.

“Thanks Alf! C’mon Tim, I want your advice, not the advice of the mind behind Discowing.” As the person who rushed his own costume to completion to avoid that sort of advice, Tim could sympathise.  He made sure to lock the door behind them. It wouldn’t actually keep Dick out if he wanted to get in, but the strange and inconsistent system of bat-honour would hopefully persuade him to stay out.

“Well, here you go.” Tim took the sheets of paper eagerly, putting down Alfred’s gift. The costume it depicted definitely was built for practicality over style. Black reinforced cargo pants were held up by a scarlet utility belt, and if the pockets on those couldn’t carry enough equipment there was a bandolier in the same shade of black as the pants going from the right shoulder to the left hip. The armoured scarlet top had dark silhouettes of a falcon head on the outside of each upper arm, the beaks of both pointing forwards. Twin thin black lines slipped down from the falcon’s heads to under the standard issue dark grey bat-gauntlets on the arms, and identical red lines ran from the hips to under the black combat boots on the legs. A Nightwing-style domino in red covered the eyes and completed the ensemble. “What do you think?”

“It’s very clearly not a Robin outfit, or Nightwing for that matter. The number of storage pouches looks very practical, but watch out for pickpockets. Do you have a name?” Jason gave him an expansive _why are you asking that question_ gesture.

“Um, Jason Peter Todd ring any bells?” That response earned every watt of deadpan stare it got. “Oh, for the costume. Sorry, late night last night, even by bat-standards. No, I don’t. I was going to barter your help on that in exchange for… I don’t know, some favour Alfie agrees is on a similar level.” Tim _would_ have done it for free anyway, but now that the favour had been offered…

“Well, I did just get this handy book of bird names, so sure. What sort of lines were you thinking along beforehand?” Jason shrugged.

“Before I quit I was thinking of Red Robin, and Dick found out about that and tried to convince me to become Redjay. But, well…” Another shrug. “Now that I’ve quit I don’t wanna go back to being any kind of Robin, and I’m sure as shit not stupid enough to use the nickname I get called most frequently in public as part of my vigilante name. I _do_ like the ‘Red’ prefix, though. Makes us a pair, Red and Black, Robin two and Batgirl two.” Ok, that was both sound logic and a good starting point.

“So we start with birds whose names begin with the word red, then expand out to any bird with a colour in its name?” This was a search for Jason’s name, Tim would let him call the shots.

“Yes. Wait, no!” Jason reached over and tapped the falcon-head silhouette on his costume’s shoulder. “Start with _birds of prey_ with red in their name and expand outwards.”

“Ok, but this book is about British birds, I can’t guarantee they’ll have that many different raptors.” Tim flicked over to the index, then to the listed page for the birds of prey section. “Or maybe they’ll have enough. How does Red Kite sound?” Jason shoved Tim’s head aside slightly to peer over his shoulder and read the description.

“‘In medieval times, this bird fought over the scraps of human refuse with great flocks of its own kind on the streets of cities. Nowadays, after much persecution, thanks to recent conservation efforts it is far more likely to be found in more rural areas, eating its natural diet and providing a stunning sight as it hangs overhead.’ Seriously? With a bit of changing the timescale and some creative liberties you have a not unreasonable depiction of my life here, you know. I think I have to choose it if I can sympathise with the bird.” Tim had to admit, that was far better reasoning than ‘Black Bat sounds cool, isn’t Batboy, and makes this costume complete before Nightwing sees it.’

“Somebody’ll probably mock the kite part of the name, but somebody ends up mocking all of us at some point. I think you should go for it.” Jason paused, then nodded decisively.

“Red Kite and Black Bat it is. At least they match better than Nightwing and Oracle.”

“I think you’re getting a little too hung up on our status as a same-numbered Batgirl and Robin pair. But yes, they do. And the costumes should play well together too, you grabbing the goon’s attention while I sneak around them and take out the big bad, or the same plan, but with bad guy and lackeys swapping opponents.” A knock came at the door, followed by Babs calling through it.

“Are you two nearly finished? Bruce got out of his meeting, which means Steph has to leave now, and she wants to say goodbye.” Jason took the costume design back as Tim went to unlock the door.

“I can’t tell you how much I want to get back on the streets, and getting to see the differences between Red Kite and Robin is just stoking that desire.” Jason snorted, then seemed to pause in the doorway, though Tim didn’t pay him much attention as he made his way over to where Steph was perched on the open windowsill with Leslie stood beside her.

“Sorry to skip out on you with this little interaction, but we want me to be at a good skill level before Batman finds out I’m Robin to reduce his reasonable arguments against taking me on. It was nice managing to meet you face-to-face, though.” Tim smiled and held out his hand to her.

“That it was. I _am_ now living in the building you come to for regular training though, so we’ll have plenty of chances to actually talk, and to spar, which is pretty much superhero small-talk, apparently.” Steph smiled back and took Tim’s hand.

“Please tell me you’re better than Dick at holding back, I lasted less than a minute against him.”  
“No, but I am less skilled, so same difference. See you soon.” Releasing his hand, Steph flipped her legs to dangle outside the window.

“See you tomorrow.” She waved, and slipped out, swinging herself onto the fire escape. Tim felt a smile spread across his face as he waved her off.

“Much as I believe Bruce to be a fool for bringing Richard, Jason, Barbara and you into his crusade, he’ll be a bigger fool if he blindly sends Stephanie back to her father’s house, even if he does it in the name of her safety.” Tim started, suddenly remembering that he had been stood next to Leslie for the entirety of his exchange with Steph. “I wasn’t made aware of Richard’s desire to hand out gifts beforehand, so you can’t expect anything from me.”

“To be honest, not wearing those casts anymore is gift enough.” Leslie gave him a warm smile.

“Good. Keep that in mind when you get leave to go out onto the streets again.” Personally, Tim didn’t feel he needed to wait, but everyone else wanted to be certain he was back to his old skill levels first. “Anyway, I have to say goodbye now too. Alfred is going to pick Bruce up from his board meeting and offered to drop me off at the clinic on the way, as I am officially not speaking to Bruce after what happened to you. It is a bit of a shame that both Stephanie and I had to leave together, but we’ll both be back soon.” Her hands wavered in the air, clearly trying to choose a way to interact with him physically, eventually settling with one resting on his shoulder. “Also, it should go without saying, but in my experience it doesn’t, so _no_ crimefighting before you’re given medical clearance by me or Alfred. I’ll come back on Thursday for a check-up. Goodbye.”

Tim echoed her farewell as Leslie strode out of the room, then stepped over to where Babs, Dick and Jason had congregated (And not eavesdropped, certainly not.) by the computers. Babs smiled and handed over a plain cardboard box around the size and shape of a chessboard. “Here you go, my gift.” Taking off the lid revealed a non-branded tablet, a keyboard that it could dock into and a selection of paraphernalia for the two items of electronic equipment. “It matches the performance of top-of-the range purchasable laptops in all important areas, and several really unimportant ones, and has a direct connection to my Oracle network so you can help me fight crime my way as well as helping these guys” she gestured to Dick and Jason “fight it theirs.”

“Also, it’ll let you see what I do on the tablet.” Babs shrugged one shoulder.

“I knew you’d know that, and that your laptop was on the list of things Dick stole from Drake manor for you, so you do have ways around that monitoring.” Tim inclined his head in acknowledgement, and made a mental note not to flaunt the more distinctive items from his old room in public places his parents could see him with them.

“Well, this Batman-style showing-I-care-by-spying is all well and good” Babs, Tim and Dick all turned to Jason, “but I’ve got an idea to show B that we do it to him just as much as we do it to each other.” Babs shoved her glasses up her nose.

“Why?”

“Mainly because it’ll be fucking funny when he loses his bet with Superman and Wonder Woman.” Dick looked as lost as Tim felt, but Babs’s shoulders were shaking with the laughter she was holding back for some reason. ( _‘Because you’re weak around it’,_ his inner Janet muttered. Tim shoved it down further with the help of an inner Babs or two.)

“Can we get a Cliff’s Notes version of the unspoken subtext here for those who were hard of consciousness when things happened? Oh, and Dick as well, I guess.”

“Sorry, it didn’t seem like the sort of thing to tell you about with Dinah in the room. She’s gone to the toilet, by the way. Bruce made a bet with Clark and Diana back when we all thought you’d need months of physical therapy that if Alfred had to stop us pushing you beyond your limits more than fifty times then he’d wear bat-suits edited to have their colours and symbols to two consecutive league meetings. Or maybe it was replicas of their costumes, Diana’s wording was a bit unclear…” Jason snorted.

“I will fucking die laughing if it’s the second option. But anyway, Leslie’s not letting you out in the field yet, so we can make certain that B loses and has to dress up!” Ok, Tim was behind this plan every step of the way, even if he had to fake a new minor but patrol-preventing injury.

“I don’t know…” The conflict on whether to help or not was written all over Dick’s face. “Fifty is a big number, and we’re already springing the surprise of a new Robin on him, I’m just not sure it’ll work, or be a good thing.” Babs sighed, and turned her wheelchair to face Dick properly.

“Ok, point one, he knew losing was a possibility when he made the bet, and we’re hardly going to advertise our involvement. Point two, we can more than likely persuade Leslie and Alfred to help out by claiming there were minor complications with Tim’s condition and trigger-happy scolding respectively.” Dick was clearly wavering. “Also, you can design the Super-bat-suit.” Tim and Jason both stared at Babs, what kind of an argument was that?

“Okay then, let’s do it.” One that worked, apparently. Babs gave the younger boys a small smirk.

“Jason, you’re our Wonder family expert,” Jason sputtered his innocence of having done anything with Donna Troy, “you design the Wonder-bat-suit. Tim, you’ll help me work out how to get Alfred and Leslie on-side and make strategies to get the Alfred telling-off’s. Unfortunately, I give it ten minutes before Bruce gets here and we have to abandon planning, but we can make a start now. Any questions? No? Good. Plan bring-some-colour-into-Bruce’s-wardrobe, initiate!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, both the longest chapter I've ever written, and the most characters I've ever tried to juggle in one scene. Woo, effort!  
> Bruce is really going to regret making that bet somewhere that Babs could overhear him via bugs. And we get to see who Jason's going to be from now on! Red Kite was actually pretty low down on the name shortlist, until I read up on the bird and saw that its history was so comparable to Jason's. The actual costume was an attempt to fuse the Red Hood and Red Robin uniforms, much like Tim's Black Bat was a fusion of Cass's Black Bat with Tim's Robin. I think it went quite well.


	22. How to help the female Robin make her debut

“Oh my god, is that Keith on a date with Shauna! That cheating jerk, he just agreed to go out with Kate!”

“Uhh, Steph, Babs let us take over her monitoring network to look for criminals committing crimes, not for classmates committing infidelity.”

“Hush, Tim, I’m doing both. There’s a load of suspicious people going into the diner they entered, I bet it’s either about to be held up or a gang meeting spot.” Tim craned his neck to see Steph’s screen, then sucked air through his teeth.

“Yeah, not a good place for a date, unless you like getting food poisoning while watching drug deals, though they’re not in any actual _danger_ per se. Busting it just hasn’t been high on the priorities list.”

“Yeah, compared to Joker that seems more like a GCPD-league problem. Can I get you to take over for me?” Technically, Tim’s greater experience with juggling this many viewpoints meant that he’d been doing 80% of the work anyway, not that he’d tell Steph that.

“Yeah, sure. Why?”

“I’m _Robin_ and I get to _wear_ the _costume_!” Even without turning away from the monitors Tim could hear the smile in her voice. “I mean, I’ve worn it a lot recently, but still. I get to wear the costume and _spar_ with the original _Batgirl!_ Actually, with all the Batgirls! And my predecessor Robins!” Tim nodded and tuned out her fangasm, it wasn’t like he hadn’t had a similar reaction to becoming Black Bat the first few times, and he didn’t feel like gathering blackmail material from her honest and uncontrolled commentary. Until it stopped suddenly. “Uhh… Hi Batman?” Tim spun away from the monitors. Yup, that was Batman. Stood right in front of Steph. Who was fully dressed in her Robin costume. There was no easy excuse for this was there?

Batman turned his gaze on Tim. “Explain.” Tim and Steph shared a helpless look, before she stepped forwards.

“We were… uhh… about to have really kinky sex!” Tim’s hand practically hit his face _before_ he felt the urge to facepalm. Add ‘good lying’ to the list of skills he needed to teach Steph.

“We’re _thirteen_ , why would you even _try_ that as an excuse. And I’m pretty sure costumes are merely erotic-in-an-odd-way, not ‘really kinky’.”

“Thirteen in _Gotham_ , Tim, it may not be the legal age of consent but it comes close enough for a lot of people our age.” Which didn’t actually excuse anything. “I’m with you on the erotic thing, though.” Batman gently cleared his throat. “Oops, got a bit side-tracked. Well, Tim wrecked the best excuse I had, so I may as well go with honesty. Hi, I’m Stephanie Brown, the new Robin.”

After staring at her for a few seconds, Batman strode past her towards Tim and the monitors. “No. Where’s Oracle?”

“Either in a shower or the bath, I don’t know what she uses, and it strikes me as rude to break into someone’s bathroom just to find out how they clean themselves. Anyway, that’s unimportant right now. Why is ‘no’ your only reaction to Steph?”

“I will not let another child get brought into my fight if they can suffer like you did or worse.” Steph neatly slid between Batman and the monitors, next to Tim.

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t have to be _brought_ into your fight, considering I was _born_ into it! Or did you miss who my father was when you worked out who was behind the Spoiler mask?!”

“That doesn’t matter, I will not assist you getting dragged in further.”

“No, you won’t. Because I _already_ did that when I pulled together the Spoiler outfit! And sure, Spoiler didn’t attract huge amounts of attention, but if you actually manage to block me becoming Robin, which I _very_ much doubt you’ll be able to do, I’ll just go back to Spoiler and attract more, because I’ll be working with Tim and Jason regularly, and Dick when he’s in town, making me look like a member of your bat-family and therefore a target of similar importance to Robin! So the only way you can protect me like you claim to want to is by taking me under your wing and training me! And before you threaten to reveal my identity, consider that I can do the same to you.” Batman actually took a step back at the vehemence of Steph’s self-defence, or possibly just the shock of finding out she knew who he was. He turned his standard glare on Tim.

“She knows?”

“ _She_ is right in front of you! Jason told me, just after we rescued Tim from Joker.” Oh crap. Batman would _not_ like hearing that Joker’s actions had lead Jason to reveal who Batman and Robin were to another blonde haired female with connections to a Gotham rogue. Tim gently pulled Steph back a bit to stand slightly in front of her. She was doing an excellent job of being her own advocate, but this needed somebody who knew about Sheila Haywood.

“Sorry Steph, this next bit is going to sound a bit callous. Bruce.” Batman’s glare weakened as he heard Tim call him by name for the first time. At least Tim knew he was paying full attention now. “If you want to ensure Steph doesn’t out you, give her a stake in keeping who you are secret. If she’s Robin, telling the world who you are will backfire on her as well, because she’ll lose a level of support Spoiler would never get and needed, and the trust of the whole superhero community. Sh-Ja-the person you’re comparing her to, however unconsciously, never thought revealing your ID would have anywhere near that level of consequences.” Batman’s general stance hadn’t changed, but Tim knew he’d seen the logic in their arguments. “At least give her an audition like you did for me, she has the same level of Alfred-approval.” Batman sighed, which- according to Dick’s homemade checklist- meant that Tim had met every criteria to call himself a proper bat-sidekick. (Point #5, make Batman sigh from some emotion. Probably exasperation.)

“Very well. Let me access Oracle’s computers and we’ll start it now, since you’re in costume.” Tim let out his own sigh of relief, and settled in front of the monitors.

“Nu-uh, direct orders from Oracle, Steph and I are the only ones to touch these computers while she’s gone. Lemme guess, you want me to bring up one of the data files from the Batcomputer.” Tim scanned the list of recently accessed items. “This one?”

 Batman pointed to one three rows up the list. “Right file, but this version excludes several lower priority targets that were left in the one you chose.” Tim shrugged and split the data across every screen but the one in front of him, just in case an emergency came up. It was a list of public and private events, but Tim couldn’t see any connection except… Oh.

“Two-Face has been planning a big score, these are the likely candidates. Identify the most probable target.” Stepping up to the screens, Steph stroked her chin.

“No matter how well our choice matches his theme there’s an element of chance, because he makes decisions based on his coin. So we just have to aim for the best match and hope for the best. Of course! That’s why you bought the list here, so Babs and Tim could monitor the rest of the shortlist while you and I stake out the prize-winner.”

“Correct, and that prize-winner would be?” Now he wasn’t the one being assessed, Tim could see the small smile in Batman’s seemingly judging face.

“Oh, that’s obvious. The grand re-opening of the Duality high-class nightclub. Lots of cash up for grabs, for starters, in a symmetry-themed club staffed solely by twins that’s opening for the second time. How did they even get planning permission to open this place in Gotham? It may be a bit too on-the-nose, but everything else on the list is much more tenuous. Am I right?” The smile actually became visible.

“That would be the same conclusion I reached. We have at best an hour, we leave now.” Batman spun dramatically and stalked out via the window, being followed by Steph who was grinning madly as she shot Tim a thumbs up.

“I heard shouting, what did I miss? Where’s Steph?” Tim gave Babs a smile as she rolled in with her hair in a towel, and flicked his thumb to indicate the window.

“She just popped out. Batman sent a list of locations he wants full surveillance of, they’re potential Two-Face targets.” He stepped aside as she slipped into her accustomed place before her computers. Hmm, he _could_ explain what had just happened plainly, or…“And he agreed to take Steph out on an audition for working with him.” Babs swerved and accidentally rammed the computer desk. “Anyway, I’m gonna grab Jason and crash a gang diner to earn the Alfred disapproval our plan needs, see you later!” Snatching up the bag he’d packed his spare Black Bat suit in just for emergencies, Tim hopped out the window before she could react. Hmm, maybe he was being over-exposed to Dick’s master-troll behaviour. Eh, he could explain over comms, and he _was_ running late given that Steph had pointed out the diner after the meeting had started.

* * *

 

Steph panted slightly as she landed beside Batman on the rooftop across the street from Duality. He gave her a slight sideways glance, before producing binoculars from his utility belt and scanning the crowds for, presumably, goons and suspicious characters. Well, Steph could come at that from another angle.

“Oracle, how long has the Duality nightclub been open tonight?” Ok, _technically_ she was getting Babs to come at it from a different angle at her request. To-may-to, to-mah-to. It’d get the same results.

_“About one hour, 47 minutes.”_

“So, given his fixation on the number two, we probably have thirteen minutes before Two-Face makes his move, meaning his men are probably already in place, either inside, which is how I’d do it, or in some sort of vehicle from which the assault will be launched. Unless the attack is more ad hoc than I’m giving him credit for, then they could be anywhere. Either way, it’s probably a good idea for us to find some sort of vantage point inside to respond.” Her statement was met with silence. She looked up to see Batman giving her a calculating gaze. “What? You’re acting as if Oracle and Black Bat _haven’t_ been forcing strategy lessons down my throat since they started training me.”

“I appear to have underestimated how well you responded to them. Ad hoc strikes are not Harvey’s style, I agree. That being said, I propose that there be no ‘us’ inside, I will go in alone.” What, don’t trust Cluemaster’s daughter to have your back? “That way his big guns will be targeting me, the known quantity, both to me and to him.” Batman grappled over to the other roof, continuing to speak over the comms _“Meanwhile, you will initiate the evacuation and engage his henchmen, fighting to join me, who will have the main dangers taken down or weakened.”_ Ok, trying not to shove her in too deep too soon. After what happened to Tim, that was understandable. She slipped down her building’s fire escape to crouch on the lowest level and settled down to peer around the corner and watch the nightclub’s entrance, though that slowly transitioned to watching the entrance and the open window of office above it just in case.

The shots and screams that rang out were practically a relief from the boredom of the stakeout. She dropped to the alley floor and prepared to rush across the road when- _“Robin, Two-Face already has a hostage, I need a distraction to stop him killing them as I attack.”_ He could probably do it himself, but she had a plan already, so why refuse a chance to show off when on audition.

“Right, I’m gonna set off the fire alarm, any objections?”

_“Do not enter before I have their attention!”_

“I’m not gonna! Office above you has an open window and nobody in it, I have a burnerang. Problem solved.” Steph chose to interpret the resultant quiet huff as _‘go for it’._ So she ran out of the alley, jumped onto a parked car and threw the incendiary batarang before Batman could issue orders to the contrary. Dick _did_ swear blind that creative interpretation of Batman’s orders was key to being Robin.

It took at most five seconds from the fire alarm going off to the shots starting again. Steph flipped off the car, and sprinted into the club, squeezing past the people who were starting to run out, though they sprang aside for her in a way they’d never do for Spoiler. Inside the club people were still scrambling around the outsides to get to the exits, but the dancefloor was clear for Batman to tango with the goons, none of whom were free enough to notice her. But where was Two-Face? She spotted him scrambling onto the stage, grasping his hurt leg and clearly trying to run. Well, they couldn’t have that. And she knew just how to stop him the Robin way.

“Hey Two-Face!” Literally every face in the house turned to face her. No going back now. “Since you like the number two so much!” Flicking out her grapple she fired it at a gantry on the ceiling she assumed was for lightbulb replacement, “Here’s a double somersault!” She reeled the grapple in, shot into the air, released it from both her hand and the gantry, flipped once, flipped twice, and landed perfectly in both of Dent’s faces. “And a one-two knockout!” Despite having been warned, the left jab knocked him just enough off balance for the right cross to smash into his jaw and send Two-Face unconscious to the floor. When she looked up, everybody in the room was staring at her, except for Batman, who used the goon’s distraction to deliver nerve strikes to the three strongest-looking ones before the rest realised he was still there. Steph dropped down, and threw herself towards them at Batman’s side. All of them were opponents she would have struggled against a few months ago as Spoiler, but compared to the experienced heroes she regularly sparred with, they were ridiculously slow and weak, if far more numerous. It didn’t take the dynamic duo long to deal with them all, which left Steph standing back to back with Batman. She turned slowly, not certain how he would react to her impromptu showboating.

“Good work Robin.” Holy crap, he complemented her. “I would have preferred that you didn’t take those impulsive risks-”

“I had fall-back plans!” Crappy ones, but they _were_ there.

“ _But_ , they worked well, and were within the boundaries of the instructions I gave you.” Not that you gave that many instructions. “Start zip-tying, and we’ll start our patrol from here.” As she bent down to get the guy at their feet, she was surprised to see Batman do it too, as if to show her how to do it. She was about to tell him to get his own, when he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I didn’t want to say this in a way the civilians in the room could hear. Consider your audition passed.” She froze as he finished off the zip-ties and moved on. Not only had she taken down Two-Face (A weakened, surprised Two-Face, but still…), she’d earned Batman’s sanction to be Robin. In your face, Cluemaster!

* * *

 

Steph’s return to the Clocktower was met with an enthusiastic round of applause from Babs, Tim and Jason, the latter two in full Black Bat and Red Kite costumes. On the central monitor, Alfred gave her an inscrutable smile. Jason was the first to reach her, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

“OK, even if B is fucking stupid and turns you away, I want you to know that that fight with Dent only made me more certain that you are fucking _perfect_ for Robin, and I will fight any bastard that says otherwise.”

“Oh, uh, thanks? That won’t be a problem, though. I already got the all-clear.” Tim, who had stepped up next to Jason, narrowed his eyes.

“When, exactly?”

“Just after we took down the last goon.” Tim turned to give Batman a hard stare.

“You’re softening. Took you until we got back to the Batcave to tell me I passed.”  Batman rolled his eyes. At least, the cowl flexed in the right places, so he  _probably_ rolled his eyes.

“You had a far higher probability of operating solo within a few weeks of that audition, your skillset had to be far more rounded, though you were weaker then than Stephanie is now in several areas.” She probably should have been insulted at the implication she wasn’t good enough to go solo, but everybody had been very upfront about the experience gap between her and Tim despite their similar ages. (Avoiding Batman for years really helped with stealth and strategy training, apparently, which were the main areas she lacked in, but she was more of a natural when it came to straight-up combat.) “You are still supposed to be on medical leave, why are you in costume?” Tim had opened his mouth to answer, when Alfred cut in.

“It would appear Master Jason encouraged Master Timothy to sneak out and fight crime with him to ‘get back into the swing of things’. I was just telling them to put the handbrake on instead of continuing to push Master Timothy past his limits.” Did Batman just flinch? “Would you believe that this is the fifty-first time we’ve had this conversation across the past few weeks?” Yes, that was definitely a flinch. “Mr Kent and Ms Prince certainly couldn’t when they popped round earlier to drop off the Justice League meeting schedule for the next few weeks.” Ok, from the way everybody but her and Batman was grinning, there was clearly an in-joke Steph was missing here. “Oh, and as an aside, sir, I have your new, specialised bat-suits ready for when you need them.” Alfred’s video call flashed off before Batman could respond. He sighed, then made an expansive gesture at everybody in the room bar Steph.

“Why?” Babs’s grin turned into a way-too-serene-to-be-real smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Bruce. I’m certain that you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to do something like, oh, I don’t know, make a bet in front of my bugs or anything, right? Especially if that bet were going to be a bit humiliating to yourself should you lose, because then I’d just _have_ to meddle.” Oh, why didn’t they tell Steph they were pranking Batman, she’d have been happy to help. Batman stared at Babs for a minute before sighing again.

“Tim, can I get you to collect Stephanie from her school tomorrow and bring her to the manor? Thank you.” He spun on his heel and stalked out, presumably trying to avoid any further bombshells. Good strategy, but a little late.

“Ok, today has officially been one of the best damn days of my life.” Jason threw his arms over Steph and Tim’s shoulders. “Red Kite and Robin 3 making their debuts, Black Bat’s triumphant return, B finding out he’d been pranked, _and_ I got to out a cheating asshole from your school when we busted the gang diner he went to. This calls for a sleepover!” At two in the morning on a school night? Before she could question Jason, Tim piped up.

“He means sleepover in its most literal sense, just sleeping in the spare room here instead of at home. You look pretty tired, and it’ll be easier than making your way home.” Well, her mom wouldn’t be getting back until after she left for school anyway…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with a bit of Bat-persuasion, Steph finally makes the leap to the big leagues! I cannot believe this is the penultimate chapter, it doesn't feel all that long ago that I was writing about Stalker!Tim deciding to confront Babs about the issues in the Batfamily. And now we're here. I would say that next chapter is an epilogue, but it seems to have become a chapter in it's own right that just happens to contain the ending, so watch this space...


	23. How to be a male Batgirl

“So, that’s a hot chocolate for you and your officially healed limbs, and that ridiculously complicated coffee-based substance you ordered but are way too young for is mine.” Babs gave Tim a saccharine smile as she set the drinks on the cafe’s table. “Nice glare, it still clashes horribly with your cute little baby-face. Overdose on caffeine when you’ve finished growing.”

“I’m not _cute_ , I’m a _legendary terror of the night_ , and that argument won’t get me anywhere, will it?”

“Not in public, at any rate. Especially with that pout on your face.” What pout? Tim carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression, earning him an oddly pitying look from Babs. Her phone’s text tone went off in her pocket. “That’ll be Dad.” She flicked it out. “Yup. He’ll be a bit late, got a new case in just before he could leave, but Batman’s there too so it shouldn’t take too long for him to get here. For someone who wants to remove the need for the Dynamic Duo, he _really_ isn’t above taking advantage of them to get a little more time with his family, a longer lunch break, or both, especially when it lets him meet his new family member.” Huh, it felt weird to be called a part of Commissioner Gordon’s family. “I did have a couple of pictures Alfred sent me to show you, though, so it all works out.” Pictures? It couldn’t be… Babs glanced around the mostly empty café they’d chosen to meet her father in, making sure nobody was too close to them, then held out her phone to Tim. He took it eagerly, and snorted at the image on screen. Batman did not suit Superman’s red and blue colour scheme, especially when the S-shield was bedazzled with sequins (Dick. Just… Dick.) Tim didn’t recognise the Batglare Bruce was wearing, but it was clearly not one of a man enjoying the situation.

“Ok, fixing the bet was well worth it.” Babs smiled and reached over to change the photo.

“If you think that’s good, see what Jason got up to.” Tim looked down at the screen, and burst out into a fit of giggles. Thankfully his own laughter didn’t trigger him, because Bruce was wearing a near-perfect recreation of Wonder Woman’s costume, just with the tiara swapped for a golden cape and cowl, still with the red star on the forehead. Bruce just looked _done_ in it. “He refused to wear it until Alfred pointed out that nothing in the wording of the bet made it illegal, and that he wasn’t going to make a different one. You are holding in your hands the only picture of B in that outfit that will survive for more than five minutes.” Well, except for any that Alfred had taken for himself, but that went without saying. The sound of another customer entering the door had Babs tucking her phone away, they’d been a safe distance from the sitting customers but talking any degree of shop when a member of the general public could sit down next to them at any time was a bit risky. Especially given that they were here to meet up with Commissioner Gordon, who still vaguely fell into the ‘general public’ category. (Tim had a few theories about how far he fell into that category, but no actual evidence of him knowing anything about who the Bats really were.)

Tim and Bab both noticed at the same time that the customer who just entered was steadily making their way over to them, and turned to look at the same time, expecting to see Commissioner Gordon still in his work clothes, apologising for being late. Instead, Tim stiffened at the sight of Janet Drake strutting towards them, dressed to dominate the boardroom.

“Timothy! It’s so good to see you out of those casts, you look much better. And you must be Barbara Gordon, it’s so nice to meet you.” She thrust her hand out to Babs, the smile on her face clearly well-practised. Neither Tim nor Babs chose to respond, leaving Janet doing a remarkably good impression of a store mannequin. “Well, aren’t either of you going to invite me to sit?” Babs reached forwards and picked up the hot chocolate she had given Tim, using the action to cover up her giving him the hand signal for _‘let me handle this.’_ Tim took advantage of the opportunity to grab the coffee he’d ordered, he needed to be far more caffeinated to deal with his mother.

“Well, thanks to what I’ve picked up from the little amount of police business my Dad let slip at home, I’m firmly of the opinion that contact between abusers and victims should be limited. Even _if_ the abuse is purely emotional.” Tim winced. His mother would _not_ respond well to such a bald-faced declaration. She wouldn’t have responded well to insinuations either, but it would have endeared a _little_ more respect for Babs. That being said, it felt good to hear somebody say it to Janet’s face.

“Your… oh, yes, our illustrious police commissioner. _Do_ give him my condolences for his family’s losses in that terrible incident with the Joker last year, I haven’t seen him around since.” Babs growled at the cheap shot towards her legs. “And I must have misheard you just now. Did you mention emotional abuse? Because none of the _experts_ in the area of child welfare have.”

Before Babs could come up with a response, Tim heard a voice comment “I would guess that would be because they’re experts and assume that the fact that child neglect is a form of emotional abuse is common knowledge.” It took noticing the stare that Babs was giving him for Tim to realise that the voice had been his own. His mother had frozen, probably at Tim’s backtalk, which wouldn’t end well. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. It wasn’t like she could punish him in any practical manner. Hopefully. “And you did neglect me, you admitted it yourself.” It was Janet’s turn to growl at the cheap shot, which had been pretty much exactly Tim’s intention. “Now, can I ask why the… _fuck_ you are here?” Janet looked down on people who expressed themselves with swearwords. Tim couldn’t find any fucks to give about her opinions, though he did give a few about the number of swearwords Jason had added to his vocabulary. Janet sniffed imperiously.

“Well, I was in the area” stalking Tim and Babs “and upon noticing the two of you” sit down somewhere that she had an excuse to enter “decided from the goodness of my heart to offer your oh-so- _experienced_ foster mother some advice for raising a child of your intellect and intuition, as well as _monetary support_ for the sudden increase in household outgoings. But I’m not certain I want to now.” If Janet thought that would be an effective threat, she had another thing coming. All she wanted to do was force Babs into raising Tim into her perfect heir, but there were at least two other people in Janet’s tax bracket Babs would rather take money and parenting advice from. (Heck, Talia al Guhl and Lex Luthor ranked higher on the list, and they were villainous non-parents.)

“Yes, because you raised me so. Fucking. Well. That _totally_ explains why you had your parental rights terminated for _bloody_ child neglect.” The other customers in the café were starting to shift uncomfortably as they noticed what was going on, but Tim didn’t care.

“Also, there’s this thing the state does where they give foster parents monetary support, you know.” Babs had a positively predatory demeanour as she showed Janet what a _genuine_ smile looked like.

“Fine.” Janet leaned down into Tim’s face. “If you don’t want the resources I can offer you, I may as well invest them in something else. Ensuring companies don’t want to hire a certain ginger in a wheelchair, perhaps…” For the standards of a civilian, it would be a very good threat. By Bat standards it was laughable. Unfortunately, Babs actually laughed. She stopped the instant she realised, but Tim was already fighting down the panic attack. Janet was clearly expecting some sort of capitulation from Tim, but if he used his lungs for anything but his breathing exercises he _would_ end up in a full-blown, hyperventilating panic attack. Babs pulled Janet back.

“Mrs Drake, I have three words for you. Do. Your. Worst.” There was a brief exchange that Tim missed the details of, but ended with Janet storming off. Tim stood quickly, muttered something about ‘toilet’ and sprinted towards the back of the shop. If he was going to come down from this panic he needed to be out of the eyes of all the other customers, and a toilet cubicle sounded like the perfect place for that. The door he chose, however, led to a back alley, and locked itself behind him. Rather than let himself get all worked up trying to get back in, Tim swung himself up onto a convenient fire escape and settled on the first level to begin the meditation exercises he learned as a just-in-case coping mechanism.

He was rudely torn from his calm place by a loud clatter on the level above him which was rapidly followed by Jason’s masked face dangling upside down in front of him. Jason gave him a quick look-over, then tapped his comm.

“Found him O. Yes, he’s unhurt. No, he’s literally in the alley behind you. I’m not sure that’s a good idea, your wheelchair would have difficulty with all the shit that’s been scattered over the ground. No, not literal shit. You can talk it through with him later. Ok, I’ll tell him that. And that. Bye.” Flicking the comm of, Jason transitioned from hanging upside down Spiderman-style to crouching on the railing. “Ok. I get that as you were fighting off a panic attack you probably didn’t _plan_ on ending up here, but would it have been too hard to send a text once you arrived? Babs is so lucky it’s a weekend, so I could be in the area in case something went tits-up.” Oh, so Jason was the costumed security Babs said she’d arranged in case some vengeance fuelled criminal attacked Commissioner Gordon and his family. “Also, she wants me to tell you that it’s okay and that she’s sorry for triggering you. She’s talked to her dad, he understands that you’re probably not in the right place to meet new people, and they can reschedule. Now, that’s the messenger bit outta the way. How’re you?”

“I’m…” Tim’s first instinct was to deflect and pretend to be fine, but the fact that he was here instead of in the café proved that wrong. “…calm. And I didn’t have a flashback this time.” Jason settled down beside Tim and threw an arm over his shoulders.

“After what just happened, that’s fucking brilliant. Janet’s an evil bitch and you’re lucky to be free of her.”

“I think that evil is going a bit far…” He couldn’t really disagree with the bitch part. Eh, it neutralised any sting from being called a ‘son of a bitch’.

“ _‘Evil begins when you begin to treat people as things.’_ Are you really gonna argue with Terry Pratchett?” Tim didn’t actually know who Terry Pratchett was, but his quote sounded like a reasonable observation on human nature. He shook his head. “Because your mom definitely treated you like a thing she could control for fucking years. I mean, every time somebody mentions you’re showing an emotion you shut the fuck down.” Oh, that explained Babs’s pitying look earlier. “So, by the logic you agreed with, she would be at least a few steps into the black.” Having no response to that, Tim let out a noncommittal noise and leaned into Jason’s hug a bit more. “You know insults are the worst thing she can do to you now, right? And we’re not bloody likely to let her get away with that either.” Tim nodded.

“I know, it’s just… She was the ultimate authority for so long. It doesn’t _feel_ like she’s powerless.”

“And yet you just swore in her face. You’re doing a great job of breaking the bad habits.” Blushing, Tim shrunk down a bit. “Seriously, Tim, you told her to fuck off. Given that she was the main source of your emotional abuse, that’s _huge_. And very satisfying to hear about.” A small smile spread on Tim’s face.

“It was quite satisfying to do as well.” Jason tightened the hug momentarily.

“That’s exactly the response we’re looking for. Well, B and Babs and Dick might want it to be a bit less confrontational, but me and Steph have your back. In fact, I’ve found a way Black Bat and Red Kite can show the Drakes the middle finger if you want to.” Tim froze. What had happened in the café had been totally spur-of-the-moment, he wasn’t sure if he could have done it if it had been premediated.

“Give me the details, then I’ll decide.” Jason gave Tim an impish grin.

“Well, I figured we could make running Drake Industries a bit harder. The company itself is clean, but several of its top employees have their fingers in some fucking nasty pies during their free time. It would be very easy to bust them in the act tonight, if you feel up to it.” Tim pulled out of the hug as he considered the proposition. On the one hand, he would be attacking his parent’s main source of income. On the other, he really wanted to lash out at them for abandoning him, and it wasn’t their sole income source.

“How damaging to DI would this bust be?” Jason shrugged.

“I think it’ll be more irritating than actually making the company impossible to run, unless I’ve botched my detective work and there are more employees there than I found.” Ok, Tim could live with that, though he’d check Jason’s conclusions before fully committing. He scrambled to his feet, an action Jason quickly mimicked.

“Well then, shall we retire to my humble abode for more suitable clothes and a plan of action, Mister Robin Secundum?” Jason paused, then gave Tim a wide grin and bowed flamboyantly.

“After you, Mister Male Batgirl.”

 

 

-The End, or at very least not The Beginning anymore-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said something similar last chapter, but I can't believe I just finished my first fic! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed sharing it with you. There is definitely more to come from this AU, so watch this space... Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading this, and I look forward to writing for you again.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Timmy, Timmy, Timmy. Before anyone objects about Ethiopia being a far bigger stumbling block in Jason/Bruce relations:  
> 1) Ethiopia happens differently in this AU, so while it is still the main problem, it’s a problem in a different way.  
> 2) This theory is the one that best fits all the facts Tim has available to him right now. I hardly think Bruce would have publicised it had Jason not died in canon.


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